


Eat You Alive

by VictoriaWitch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also eventually, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, Multi, Other, POV Female Character, Past Sexual Assault, Personal Growth, Phone Sex, Pining Ushijima Wakatoshi, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Protective Kuroo Tetsurou, Protective Ushijima Wakatoshi, References to Depression, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 102,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaWitch/pseuds/VictoriaWitch
Summary: Playing two different people can be exhausting, especially when the real you is screaming to be released from her imprisonment inside. Locked away in a dark box, held down by heavy chains, the key to her cell tossed away and long forgotten.If the bleakness consuming you doesn't completely eat you alive, maybe you can finally confess to the feelings you need to get off your chest the most.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 130
Kudos: 204





	1. Shameless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent piece I started to work out my own issues. It's definitely the most angst-y piece I've ever done, but as if the way of life. Not to worry though, I do have a happy ending planned for (Name)-chan.

“Hi! I’m (Name), I have DDD titties, and I’ll be fucking you later tonight.” You greet with a grinning chipper, hand extended out for the bottle-blonde to take. His smirk is razor sharp as your words settle into his alcohol-soaked brain, briefly flashing his friend beside him a “I can’t believe this” quirk of his brow before taking your hand in his. 

“Terushima Yuji,” you giggle in delight, giving a nod of your head as acceptance of his name and his agreement to your shameless claim. 

“Oh my go - come on!” Before you can manage to engage with Terushima any further, a hand at your wrist is tugging you away. You whine, pouting at the tussled mop of hot pink in front of you. 

“Yuki!” You whine as he pulls you into the empty living room of the house the party is raging at. Most of everyone is outside on the patio, sitting by the fireplace, or out in the garage playing beer pong and flip cup. He pushes you onto the couch, arms crossing over his chest as he glares down at you, orchid eyes burning with fury. “What?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” He gives you no time for a half-baked defense, quickly grilling you with no restraint. “That’s Terushima! He’s the biggest slut here, you know that! That’s why you’re supposed to avoid him!” Yuki waves a few fingers in front of your glazed over eyes, “Fuck, (Name). How drunk are you?” 

“I’m fine! I was fucked up earlier, but I made myself get sick. Now I’m rallying! I’m good!” He can see through the falsities of your claim, your pupils so dilated all he can see is the bright blue irises that cut through the dim light of the empty room. He knows there’s no controlling you, no way to make you see anything other than what you want to. He can argue with you until he’s blue in the face, but he won’t get through that thick skull. Especially with how far gone you are. 

“Use a fucking condom,” is all he can manage to spit out before retreating to the kitchen in search of something to eat and a reprieve from your drunken shenanigans. He’s already certain you have a concussion from a failed backbend attempt, the crown of your skull having firmly connected with the concrete floor of the garage earlier in the night. 

You hum in triumph, head tilting from side to side as you bounce back out to the garage in search of your conquest of the night. Fear of regret is nowhere to be found in the slosh of gray matter swirling inside your head; you won’t remember any of this in the morning, anyway. 

You wake up to a cold wetness covering your skin, body shivering from the way your damp clothes cling to clammy flesh. Dewy grass tickles at your exposed body as you push your face off the ground, groaning at the way your body protests all your horrible decisions from a few hours ago. The burning throb between your legs is enough indication to prove you at least hooked up with someone, just another shameful memory you’re now blissfully unaware of. You look around the sea of tents littering the backyard, the gently sounds of breathing and some stray snores alerting you to how many people have still crashed out from the rager. 

You weave through the maze of nylon and polyester, shuffling out the back gate of the yard to browse the cars parked in the front yard. Yuki’s is still here, meaning he didn’t abandon you. He never did, no matter how much he threatened to the next time you did something like this, he would never do anything to leave you to fend for yourself; he knew you couldn’t. Drunk you is a whole different breed from sober you. 

Walking into the house, you find Yuki in the kitchen, comfortably sipping a cup of coffee. Without sparing a word, he slides a phone across the island, letting the device coast across effortlessly in your direction. Snatching it off the counter, you grimace at all the missed calls and texts. “Tell him you’re on the way,” is all Yuki says to you before discarding his empty cup in the sink, fetching his keys from one of the drawers lining the island, and strolling outside. You type as quickly as your fingers will allow, scampering after Yuki. 

Fortunately, it’s still early, just barely 7am by the time Yuki gets on the road. Your bag is packed and in the back seat of his car, having prepared for this before going out last night. Of course, you weren’t supposed to party as hard as you did, knowing the training camp was starting the next day. Better judgement always leaves you as soon as you step into a crowd downing mixed drinks and throwing back shots. You mentally curse yourself, still rapidly texting apologies to the captain and promising you’ll be there on time. Naturally, you ignore his text asking why you never responded to him through the night. 

The entire drive to the training camp, Yuki explains your behavior and antics of the night. You cringe the entire time, a pained groan leaving your lips when he mentions you went off to hit on and sleep with Terushima. You didn’t know much about him, just seeing him frequently at the same parties you attended. He was a playboy, through and through. Normally, Yuki managed to keep you from him, but last night you decided to flip the script. “You’re pretty cock hungry for a bitch that just managed to get her second,” Yuki scoffs and you give a snort in retort. 

Fuck, why do you always do this? 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“A pretty one _and_ a cute one!? It’s just not fair!” Yamamoto cries, watching the two Karasuno managers file in behind the rest of the team members. Tanaka and Nishinoya only snicker in victory before going on an ‘I know!’ tangent. “But!” The Nekoma boy perks up, a deviously triumphant glint in his eyes, “We have our own manager, now!” 

“What!?” Tanaka reels, taking a step closer to the two-tone-haired male. 

“Is your manager a girl, too!?” Cries Nishinoya, hands clasping together in hope at the front of his chest. 

“Damn right! And she’s -“ his voice trails to nothing, focus locked in place behind the two boys he had been talking to. Nishinoya and Tanaka turn around, gawking as the newest female to arrival. Ignoring the three of them with ease, chatting animatedly with Kiyoko and Yachi, though the conversation seems dominated by the dark-haired woman who is usually known to be of few words. Dressed in fitted, crimson track pants and a black long sleeve that seemed more like a second skin. Long, platinum locks pulled into a loose, high ponytail that stopped right in between the shoulder blades. Her piercings are noticeable with her long locks pulled high, showing off the industrial, helix, tragus, and lobe piercings in the right ear.

“She’s fucking perfect,” Tanaka screams into his hands, dropping to his knees as Nishinoya flails beside him, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“An angel among men!” 

“We love her so much,” Yamamoto breathlessly adds as he swoons with the other two over you. 

You shook your head at their antics, not in the least surprised by it from Yamamoto. “I’m sorry,” Kiyoko practically whispers. “They’re always like that,” her sigh matches your own as you can only thumb over at your own boy and nod in agreement.

You had just arrived no more than five minutes ago, not yet even having a chance to report to the coach or your captain and the rest of the team. Based off the near constant buzz of your phone in your pocket, they’re getting restless waiting for you. As much as you want to stick around to talk with the Karasuno managers, you know you have other matters to attend to. With a slight bow of your head, you excuse yourself and trot off to the gym, being sure to latch on to the back of Yamamoto‘s collar and dragging him along with you. 

“(Surname)-Chan!!” Lev’s exasperate cry of your name has the entire team turning, a few dark looks cast over shoulders being thrown in your direction. One in particular pierce you in place, the normally bright hazel hidden behind the shadows his bangs cast over his face. Your throat constricts as you swallow nervously before throwing out a nervous wave. Your phone had been blown up between Kuroo, Kenma - who was worried about you and the way Kuroo was panicking-, Lev, and even Bokuto, who had been dragged into the mix. None of them knew of your nightly antics, only ever having seen you as the picture-perfect student and manager. To hide your less favorable habits, you always entrusted Yuki with your phone to respond to the worrisome boys when you were preoccupied. Last night you had lost your phone, making even responses from fake you impossible. You still don’t know where or how Yuki managed to hunt the device down, as you were certain buying a new one was inevitable. Much to your luck, no one has time to berate you; the other teams participating in the training camp filing into the building. You pass the three worried boys in red an apologetic smile before scampering off to gather your notebook and other materials you use to make notes of their plays. You always wrote down ideas on new attacks, how to better block against certain teams, and other overall team-strengthening notes. 

Up until three weeks ago, you had been a manager for the girls’ volleyball team. Your efforts to better them so intense the entire team cried when you left to join the boys. The girls had two managers, and Kuroo was insistent of recruiting you to manage them. Naturally, you offered your younger counterpart to them, but he wanted you. They wanted you. Kuroo and you had been friends since the very start of high school, and he had taken quick note of how knowledgeable you seemed on his favorite sport. You never elaborated farther than, “my grandfather is a volleyball coach.” So, he was more than adamant about you managing their team, even going as far as to get the coach to confront you and ask you to join their ranks. It wasn’t until the ever silent, aloof, Kenma confronted you that you gave in. 

You smile softly as you approach Kiyoko and Ukai, holding out a mini stack of four papers to the former to take. Notes with writing covering the front and back of each page. “Your boys seem to be struggling a bit. I hope you don’t mind; I noted a few things and made a few suggestions.” Kiyoko glances at them before handing them to the coach. You stick around just long enough to see his baffled expression before softly giggling to yourself and walking away. Ukai looks at Nekomata, who only gives him a sly grin as if to communicate that he knows; one of their greatest weapons happens to lurk off the court.

You don’t even register as a ball goes whipping past, reacting with so much nonchalance you don’t even realize you’d received the ball with your forearm and rocked it back into play. That is, until Yachi has her arms wrapped around you, crying and endless line of ‘thank you’ into your shoulder. You look around owlishly, not registering the sting against your darkened flesh until Lev lets out a whistle of appreciation, “Our manager is a badass!” 

“Yeah, she receives better than you,” Kuroo snickers back, dampening the mood of the younger player. You roll your eyes, playfully flipping Kuroo off as you take your place back on the Nekoma side of the court. Yaku chuckles lightly at the deflated first year, watching as even a faint smile graced Kenma’s lip. The tension from this morning had worn off and everyone was back to normal behavior, with the exceptional narrowed glances Kuroo passed your way. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“That’s so cool!” Hinata chimes, beaming at Kenma who had been telling him a little more about their manager. “She seems really comfortable with everyone!”

“She is,” the soft-spoken male agrees, his lips melding shut as more members from other teams begin to join in on the conversation. It went without saying that the boys were enamored with the newest addition to the volleyball club, especially after your effortless receive earlier. 

“She’s small,” Tsukishima notes calmly, observing you as you stand outside with the other managers, happily chatting away. 

“Smaller than me! It’s adorable,” Hinata chuckles lightly, “she’s like a little chibi.” Kuroo hums to himself at the assertion, him, Bokuto, and Akaashi listening in from the outskirts of the horde of males. He peers over the heads of the other players, feline eyes raking over your form. You’re short, just barely reaching 152 centimeters. The excitement in your face highlighting your large, bright eyes that always manage to capture his attention, no matter from how far away. The apples of your cheeks puff as you laugh from something one of the other girls say, giving your angular, feminine face a rounder appearance. “You just thought of another way to tease her, didn’t you?” Akaashi sighs out, unable to ignore the way Kuroo has locked on to you like a predator stalking its prey. 

“Well, I can’t help it. She makes it so easy,” the noirette snickers, his attention finally breaking away from you, only to immediately return as he watched Yamamoto, Tanaka, and Nishinoya practically skip out of the building. Sawamura makes a move to retrieve his two straying members but is stopped by Kuroo shaking his head at the other third-year. “Let’s see how this plays out.” Bokuto grins like a fiend, sitting on the floor, ready to watch the chaos unfold as if it were the only source of entertainment he enjoys. 

“(Surname)-senpai!!” Your skin noticeably crawls as he tacks on the unnecessary honorific, although you’ve grown used to him calling you it. You barely have enough time to turn before a pair of arms are in your directly line of sight. With immeasurable speed, you dodge the attempted hug, flawlessly swooping under his outstretched limbs, sliding behind him, and kicking the back of his left knee, dropping him to all fours. Tanaka and Nishinoya are worshipping you from the side while Yamamoto cries into the dirt how it was a pleasure to have you touch him. You cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes, accentuating your annoyance with a sigh that’s heard from all the members still inside the gym. “What are you up to, Bakamoto?” Before he can answer, the two Karasuno boys are in front of you, bowed at 90-degree angles. 

“We wanted to tell you how beautiful you are!” They scream at the same time, eliciting a few owlish blinks from you in return. 

“Um, thank you?” 

“Thank you!” Tanaka calls back, Nishinoya following right behind with, “for gracing us with your presence!” The other girls watch with feigned exasperation, amazed any of the awkward admirers had the gall to actually say something to one of the women they admired. The rest of the boys watch with clear amusement, ready to watch as you blow the three off as nothing more than a nuisance. Kuroo’s lips curl in a sinister smirk as he sees your shoulders moving, your laughter quickly flowing out into the otherwise quiet area. 

“Look here, you simps are adorable and all,” one of your arms drops to your side as you pop a hip, leaning your weight to one leg. Your dumbfound expression has faded into something darker, a threateningly promising, yet all the more arousing, lilt to your tone, “but I’ll eat you alive.” The comment only serves to send them into a frenzy you easily overlook by calmly strutting into the gym, a smirk cracking your lips as your eyes meet with Kuroo’s. Bokuto is right beside him, looking just as smug with how you handled the three. They knew exactly how you would react. While you’re known for being the picture-perfect student and quite friendly, you are, to be blunt, quite the bitch. 

‘A bad bitch,’ as Kuroo had so suavely stated one day after watching you reject an admirer as if he were nothing more than a fly in your space. 

“Well, are you going to start your personal practices or keep gawking?” The group of boys quickly breaks apart, only serving to leave most of the captains and a few middle blockers daring enough to stick around. “Oh!” You turn to the Karasuno group that remains, remembering they were the only team you never got to speak with earlier. “The name is (Surname) (Name), manager for Nekoma. Pleasure to finally meet you all! I’ve heard a lot.” Kageyama looks around like a lost puppy, ready to bolt in the opposite direction. Hinata stares at you with wide eyes that scream adoration, for a various of reasons, at this point. Sawamura and Sugawara easily introduce themselves before pointing out the junior members of their team, all of which have fallen silent in your presence. 

“You sticking around for personal practice?” Kuroo asks after you finish your introduction with the rival team. 

“Of course, who else is going to grill you for your fuck ups?” 

“Ouch,” Lev snickers, only to fall silent as Kuroo and Yaku home in on his existence. 

“Should have just kept your mouth shut,” Kenma sighs out as he moves towards the locker room, clearly done for the day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You’d be a lot better if you had just a bit of passion,” you note, watching as Tsukishima sneers as another spike from Kuroo zips past him. “You’d probably even have a chance at blocking his lackluster serves.”

“Hey!” Kuroo barks, a threatening sharpness in his glare. 

“If you’re so good, why don’t you try?” Tsukishima begrudgingly snips, unable to bite his tongue even if he needed to. You give a small ‘heh,’ before glancing down at the incoming call flashing across your screen. You decide to ignore his sass and the way his face contorted in smug triumph, opting to answer the call instead. Too comfortable to move, you place to call on speaker, setting the cell on your thigh and motioning for the boys to continue their practice. 

“Ohlolol!~ (Name)-chan, what are you doing in a gym this late?” 

“Observing,” you answer curtly with a carefully placed scowl towards the tall, lanky blonde. “What are you doing, call me this late, Satori-kun?” The next serve smacks the ground with a resounding crack that makes you question if the volleyball popped from the impact. All eyes are locked on the phone in your lap, not a single glance holding any warmth towards the boy on the other end of your call. You bite back a smirk, all too pleased with their reaction. The Guess Monster of Shiratowizawa called you, the Nekoma manager, casually, at damn near 10:30pm. 

“I ran into Yuki-kun -“ the call is off speaker before he can get anything else out, something that especially seems to tip off Kuroo and Bokuto. You place the phone to your ear, excusing yourself from their practice and making your way to the privacy outside. “He said he was worried about you.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” you lie seamlessly. Yuki wasn’t bold enough to out you for your brash tendencies, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to push others to question you. Especially with your more recent, outlandish behaviors. “I haven’t texted him today, been busy with the training camp. Did he tell you anything to say why?” Your voice is laced with false concern. It burns you to act so fake with Tendo, but you can’t bother yourself with that much when your heart is hammering against your ribs, waiting anxiously for his answer. 

“No, he never elaborates,” Tendo sighs through the phone. 

“I forgot to mention that I can’t use my phone much during the camp. I’ll send him a text to let him know.” You laugh lightly, “can’t have him worrying you.” 

“Or the others,” he casually reminds, as if you truly forgot the rest of the team and how much their members cared for you, too. 

“I know, Satori-kun. I’m sorry for worrying everyone. But I’m fine!” He chuckles in response, clicking his tongue. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something get to you, (Name)-chan! You’re strong, that’s why I love you! ~” 

“I love you, too. Good night!” 

“Night! ~” you watch as the call picture gives way to your home screen and you release a long sigh, the vein near your temple throbbing with the threat to rupture. You sent a quick text to Yuki, ‘alerting’ him to your limited phone usage before calling him a few minutes later, being sure to block your number out, as to keep it from appearing in his call log. The pinkette answers with a deep sigh, “I’m assuming Tendo called you.” You give a deep hum of confirmation, your irritation painstakingly noticeable even without having to speak a word. “I didn’t say anything incriminating.”

“You said enough,” you hiss back. Yuki sighs again and you can picture him running his fingers through his hair, already tugging at the roots in aggravation. 

“I figured I’d give you an opening to talk to someone about what’s going on with you.”

“Nothing is going on with me!”

“(Name), you’re blacking out once a week! Some weeks you do it two to three times, back to back days!” No rebuttal comes and he knows it’s because you know his words are truth. “I’m worried about you.”

“If you were so worried you wouldn’t be taking me to the parties.” 

“I took you yesterday because you said you weren’t going to drink!” Even though he knew that was a lie; you always drank once in the environment to do so. “Besides, if I don’t go with you there’s no one there to make sure nothing horrible happens to your dumbass.” 

“Look, it’s not a problem. I just get buzzed and I have a hard time turning down drinks.” Another lie. “I don’t need to drink, Yuki.” Finally, true words from your mouth. You didn’t need to drink; you didn’t rely on it or feel the need to indulge every night. You only did drink when you went out to parties. It was easier to drink than to - “I’m fine,” you promise, pulling yourself from your prior thoughts. His concern wasn’t unwarranted, and deep in your heart, you knew that. “And if a time comes when I’m not, I’ll let you know.” You smile to yourself, tone shifting to a playful promise, “next time I’ll stay level and let you have fun.” He only snorts, mutters a “we’ll see,” before bidding you a goodnight and ending the call. 

The forced smile wears into straight lips as the call ends, leaving you in the silence of the summer night. You shake your head; you didn’t need help. Your drinking wasn’t that bad, you didn’t need help. It just helped warm the cool numbness you normally felt, there was nothing wrong with that.

Right? 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh-hohoho,” Kuroo quickly blocks a spike from Bokuto with seamless precision, even with being distracted by your tiny figure drifting back into the gym. “And what did the Shiratorizawa punk want from my sweet Chibi-chan?” The soft padding of your feet across the floor faulters as you quirk a brow at him; _that_ was a new nickname. You purse your lips, managing to fight back the slight blush that threatened to spread across your cheeks. 

“Satori-kun is not a punk, first of all. Secondly, he was just checking up on me.” 

“Didn’t know you were so close with him,” Bokuto notes with a lingering note of curiosity, hoping to coax you to elaborate. Giving a simple shrug, you respond, “I’m close with the entire team.” Tsukishima and Lev raise brows at you while Hinata seems torn between envy and conflict. “Believe it or not, Nekoma is not the only team I like.” 

“But we are your favorite,” Kuroo coos, quickly closing off any distance between the two of you until the tips of your shoes are pressed with his. “Right?” Craning your head back, you smile at the grinning male. _You really do hate how fucking hot he is_. Shifting your weight to the tips of your toes to bring your face slightly closer to his, your hand comes up as your index finger taps the tip of his nose. 

“Yes, Kuroo-kun. You’re my favorite.” It’s effortless to say, especially when both of you know it’s true. You and Kuroo had been in the same class since your first year, both taking extreme interest in the sciences. As your years together grew, and your third year was quickly drawing to a close, you decided to apply to the same programs at the same colleges. “But your ass is grass if you don’t clean and lock up this gym in the next fifteen minutes. It’s 11:45.” 

“Oh, shit,” Bokuto grunts before rushing to gather stray balls, the rest of the boys following suit. They’d been lucky tonight, being able to practice miserably late as the coaches and other older staff decided to go out for drinks. You smirk, rolling your eyes as you watch them clean in a frenzy before casually making your way to the dorms. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Noya, I think she’s gonna hit you,” Hinata warns, scooting away from your side to slot his body behind Kageyama. Through the rest of the training camp, he, Tanaka, and Yamamoto had kept their pestering to a minimum. But, having observed your interactions with the Nekoma captain, the wild-haired boy had decided a few things on your relationship. Nishinoya caught your off guard during the barbecue, sneaking up on a conversation you were pleasantly holding with Tsukishima, Yaku, Akaashi, and Lev. Hinata and Kageyama had joined in, but stayed silent for the most part. Nishinoya immediately started to throw out question after question about the dynamic between you and Kuroo’s dynamic before finally asserting he was certain the two of you were secretly dating.

“Oh?” Nishinoya tweaks his head to the side, carefully deciphering your body language. Your jaw was clenched, hands balled at your side, and despite the growing blush across your cheeks, the furrow in your brows was just another clue to tip him off to your boiling frustration. You knew you couldn’t entirely fault him for the assumption, most people thought you and the captain were an item. But it didn’t stop you from wanting to throttle the exuberant libero any less. 

“Kuroo-kun and I are _not_ dating, Nishinoya-san.” A long breath releases from your lungs as you calm the buzzing in your nerves. “He’s one of my best friends, I don’t view _him_ like that?”

“Oh? So, who _do_ you see like that?” A sharp glare is tossed over your shoulder at Tsukishima. Despite the rough start the two of you had on the first day, he seemed to have warmed up to you and even asked you a few pieces of advice on how he could improve. That didn’t erase the fact he was a little shit.

“I don’t –“

“Chibi-chan! ~” Red blisters across your cheeks as Kuroo coos out your new nickname, sauntering up with Sawamura and Bokuto in tow. Tsukishima snickers at your involuntary reaction, earning another skin-splitting glare from you in return before quickly returning your attention to the incoming captains. “We’re making a group chat between Karasuno, Nekoma, and Fukurodani. We wanted to add the managers, too!”

“None of them have been interested,” Bokuto admits with a lopsided grin, his hand resting against the back of his head. Despite the sigh to leave your body, you give a faint smile before pulling out your phone.

“It’s fine. I’ll make it. I just need everyone to put their nu –“ your request is cut short, a FaceTime request from Tendo coming in. The boys hover closer, waiting patiently to see if you’re going to answer it or not. You huff at them in irritation, knowing full well as Kuroo pushes directly against your side he’s planning to make _sure_ the Shiratorizawa player knows your occupied. Ignoring the uneasy tension radiating from around you, you answer the call with a beaming smile. “Hey, Sato – _oh_!” The olive eyes staring back at you send a rush of heat through your entire body; cheeks, ears, and neck painted pink. “H-Hi, ‘Toshi-kun.” Without looking you can feel Tsukishima’s golden orbs narrow on you, a shit-eating smirk sprawled across his face as if the answer of his earlier question were plain and simple now.

“Hello, (Name)-chan,” Kuroo nearly groans at your familiarity with the rival player. The faintest of his smiles fades as he notes the multiple people surrounding you. “I should go, you seem b –“

“ _Ah, ah, ah! (Name)-chan answered the phone! Talk to her!”_ Tendo hisses in the background, and you can nearly picture his exasperate face; eyes wide as he fails his arms to dissuade Ushijima from hanging up.

“N-no, you’re fine, ‘Toshi-kun. It’s the last day of our training camp, so I’m free to talk!” Bokuto giggles from off to the side, his finger poking at Kuroo’s cheek as a way to tease him over his obvious jealousy. Fortunately, Sawamura can see your desperation to break away from the crowd and breaks off to the side, creating a space for you to slip through. You thank him with as much sincerity your hues will radiate before briefly jogging off into the emptied gym to resume your conversation. Looking back down at the phone, your pleasantly surprised to see Ushijima still there, patiently waiting for you to find your privacy. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to be sorry.” You break eye contact with him for a moment, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Sorry Satori-kun made you FaceTime me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Oh?” Just like that, your blush returned. If he noticed, he was kind enough not to comment on it. Tendo had been trying to push you into confessing to Ushijima for a year now, but you never budged. It was practically a public fact that the Ace of Shiratorizawa was too busy to indulge in a relationship, and you couldn’t stand being rejected by him. The risk of ruining your friendship was him was too severe. You had one too many reasons not to confess, a major one being you were in no place for a relationship. You were horrible at expressing any emotions outside of irritation and aloofness, affection never coming easy to you. You had told Tendo you were ‘emotionally stunted,’ to which he only teased back by saying, ‘and vertically challenged.’ Ushijima seemed distant and stoic to everyone, but you had seen the softer sides of him that made you almost feel guilty whenever considering wanting to be with him romantically. He didn’t deserve a cold, unaffectionate girlfriend. None of the boys in your life did.

Tendo’s voice whispered through the background once more, a soft encouragement of, ‘ask her’ crackling through the speaker. “The Spring High Tournament is coming up. I wanted to know if you would be watching us.”

“Of course, I will!” The flash of relief and appreciation that crosses his expression makes your lips tug upwards.

“(Name)-chan,” Kuroo calls from the doors of the gym, letting them gently close behind him. The grave tone of his voice makes you feel like there’s something serious he needs to discuss, and the lack of his signature grin or fire in his cat-like orbs only steels the suspicion. You look back to Ushijima’s picture on the screen, a frown now taking place of the smile he had brought.

“I’m sorry ‘Toshi-kun. I have to go. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye! ~ Oh, and bye Satori-kun!” The line cuts out before the redhead has a chance to say anything back. Turning around, you lock your phone, slipping it into your pocket to face Kuroo. He’s already moved from the door, practically towering over you. Your eye level with his lower chest, a normal issue for you, being surrounded by monstrously tall boys all day. Not to mention the 15-inch difference between the two of you. “What’s wrong, Kuroo-kun?” He doesn’t respond, staring down at you with a narrowed glare. The tension from him is palpable, making your heart slam against your ribs like a battering-ram. He’s pissed, you know he is. Without a doubt he heard you agree to watch their games, knowing full well you had _others_ to partake in. “Kuroo –“

“Can’t you ignore them just once?”

“They’re my friends, too. You’re not the only one.”

“I know that!” He groans out, head tilting back before snapping forward again to meet your stare once more. “But do you _have_ to jump to answer them when you’re with us?” It took everything in his being not to say, ‘when you’re with me,’ knowing full well that you didn’t view him in any romantic sense. “We hardly get to see you.”

“I see you almost every day,” you counter with a raised brow. “Kuroo-kun, why are you being so jealous?” A teasing grin is shot in his direction as you raise to the tips of your toes, resting your chin against his strong, broad chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a _crush on me_. ~” The ravenette snorts, pushing two fingers to your forehead and pushing you away with a scoffed, “You wish.”

_“I really fucking do.”_

“Come on, shrimp,” Kuroo wraps an arm around your neck, pulling your cheek against his side as he heads back outside. You whine against him, lightly smacking against his stomach in mock effort to make him release you. In reality, you love being so close to him and wouldn’t wish for anything different.

“Hey,” Tsukishima approaches you just before everyone is set to board their buses and return home. “I have a favor to ask.” You close the notebook you had been scribbling ‘to-do’ notes in, giving the blonde bean pole your full attention to show you were listening. “Those notes you gave Coach on the first day for the team. Do you –“ he clears his throat, orbs of dark honey shifting off to the side as a faint shade of embarrassment trickles across his face, “do you think you could do that for me? Write down the things I need work on and ways I could get better?”

“I thought Bokuto-kun and Kuroo-kun had been teaching you?”

“They had! I just – you’re observant and seem to know what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t mind someone else to push me.” You try to dial back your pride in the younger male, thrilled he’s starting to accept his interest in the sport and upping his dedication.

“Yeah, Tsukishima-san. I can do that for you.”

“Y-you can call me Kei,” he shrugs, trying to be as casual as possible without throwing in his usual sarcasm. “If you want.”

“I’ll text everything over to you in a few days. Thank you for trusting me, Kei-kun.”


	2. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Car sleeping scene brought to you by: my drunk friend unable to get into his dorm room.  
> "I probably will" scene brought to you by: my shitty responses to simps on Tinder, and my friends input on our group chat! (properly named "Dumb bitch juice").

“Come on, we’ll be quick!” You grabbed Kuroo’s wrist, dragging him through the throngs of people, passing them like a blur. Shiratorizawa’s match against Araigawa was only twenty minutes away, and while you knew you should have been with the team to help them prepare for the game, you couldn’t pass up the chance to see how Karasuno was managing. Following the training camp, you found yourself in contact with them more frequently than you anticipated, even going as far as to FaceTiming them during some of their practices to offer _– a few_ – pointers to the team. Most importantly, you wanted to see Kei and how he had been progressing. At least once a week you would find yourself locked in a room with Kuroo, eyes glued to the screen as you both watched the first-year blocker practice and offer suggestions on improvements.

Kuroo nearly gasped for air as you finally stopped at the railing of the stadium, watching as Karasuno faced off against Johzenji. They were in the middle of their first set, and as your eyes trailed over to the scoreboard, you bounced on the balls of your feet. “Kuroo-kun, they’re leading!” He only gave a grunt in response, still miffed about having to take a train all the way out to Miyagi just to watch _Shitatorizawa_ play. You can see the garbled expression on his face from the corner of your vision and snort, “You didn’t _have_ to come, you know.”

“And leave my sweet, little Chibi-chan to fend for herself? How horrible do you think I am?” His hand covers his heart in mock hurt, a pout tugging on his lips in effort to cover the conniving smirk lingering underneath. You click your tongue at him before retuning focus to Karasuno, not even bothering to pass the opposing team a single glance. You didn’t come to watch them volley, you came to see how your new team was faring. You wanted to see how Kei was preforming. Admittedly, he seemed far more confident in himself than he did even during the training camp, but that passionate spark was still yet to fully ignite. A specially sequenced buzz in your pocket has you quickly reaching for the secured device, quickly swiping across the screen to see whatever Tendo had sent.

**_Lizard-kun_ **

_Wakatoshi-kun keeps looking around. I think he’s looking for you._

_Better hurry up, (Name)-chan ~_

_Don’t break our Captain’s heart._

“Cheeky bastard,” you grumble to yourself, watching one more play before going to drag Kuroo off again, but pausing. “Kuroo-kun,” he looks down at you, expressionless from having been engrossed in the current competition. “Do you want to say and watch the Crows? I have to go watch Ushi – Shiratorizawa play.” He catches your slip and a grin tugs at his mouth, though it’s not his normal, teasing gesture you’ve become accustomed to.

“Yeah, I’ll stick around here. I’d like to see how our opponent for Nationals fair.”

“You know they’ll probably have to play Shiratorizawa first, right?”

“I said what I said,” he waves his hand with nonchalance, certain in his unspoken claim that Nekoma’s rival team will surpass the mighty powerhouse. With a giggle and an eye roll, you nudge his side with your elbow before darting off once more. Kuroo tries to keep his attention to the game, but finds his focus wandering to watch as you flit away instead.

“’Toshi-kun!” You breathlessly call, skidding to a stop outside of the entrance to the gym Shiratorizawa will be playing in. Upon seeing you, Ushijima dips his head in a faint bow as he greets you back.

“I was starting to think you didn’t make it.”

“No! I was here, I just stopped to see how Karasuno was doing.” His olive-brown hair sways as he gives a curt nod, not bothering to comment on your statement. “But I wouldn’t miss watching you play for the world!” Mentally, you slap yourself into the next dimension, hands coming up to cover your mouth. _“Did I really just fucking say that!?”_ The faintest of smirks floats across Ushijima’s face, your flustered expression far more amusing than he’d ever outwardly express in public. The doors to the gym creak open, red spikes and wide eyes peering out through the crack at the two of you. You look passed the gap between Tendo and the door, locking hues with Washijo. You smile at the old man, waving at him in a silent greeting. The corner of his mouth tugs into a grin, eyes flickering between you and the team Captain before giving a nod of acknowledgement.

“Wakatoshi-Chan, we need to get ready,” Tendo casually reminds him, still poking through the crack in the door rather than opening it fully. “You can talk to (Name)-Chan later. You did ask her to join us for dinner after the matches, right?” If the singsong way he spoke your name wasn’t enough to strike the embarrassment in you, the way he pushed Ushijima to be more open with his intentions for wanting to see you pre-game certainly was.

“We hadn’t gotten that far,” Ushijima admits, not once having turned his attention away from you.

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “I’m here with Kuroo-kun, I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys.”

“Bring him along! ~” Chirps Tendo, trying his best to get you to agree. “An extra person never hurt.” You give the two an apologetic smile, as much as you’d love to, you know Kuroo wouldn’t have any interest in it. It was just be plain rude to drag him out to another event, especially given how disinterested he initially seemed in joining you to begin with. Of course, he had perked up when you mentioned being able to see how Karasuno was playing through their rounds.

“I’m sorry, guys. Next time?”

“Tendo! Ushijima!” The pair glance back at an impatiently waiting coach. Tendo wiggles his fingers at you as he slinks back into the gym, but the Captain lingers for a moment.

“Next time,” he confirms with a nod before following his teammate on to the court. Remaining in place for a moment, you smile to yourself, giving a single, confident nod as if to confirm that you would message Tendo to set up a day for you to get together with them. Without looking, you back up into the main portion of the hall, only to feel another body collide right into the side of yours. You let out a quick, startled gasp before whirling around.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You bow slightly, apologizing to the man you backed into. When you finally look at him, you recognize him immediately.

“No, no,” he waves a hand in front of his chest, a soft, charming smile adorning his beautiful face. “I should be apologizing. Hopefully, I didn’t hurt such a pretty girl.” The eye roll of the man beside him doesn’t go unnoticed, but you only give a half smile and shake your head from side to side, silently indicating your lack of injury. Chocolate eyes roll over you, his charming smiling turning to wide elation as he appreciates your stunning features in entirety. “And what might a delectable little thing like you be doing down here? Don’t tell me your boyfriend is playing, I might get jealous.”

“Always so quick with your tongue, Oikawa-san?”

“Ah!” His hands clasped together in front of him, “So, you know who I am!”

“Of course, I have to keep an eye on potential competition.”

“Oh?”

“(Surname) (Name), Nekoma manager.”

“Hm, explains the color combination.” Once more his attention drones over your body, focusing on the ripped up, black skinny jeans you wear and the blood red t-shirt that hugs in all the right places. It’s a V-neck, not low enough to expose anything, but enough to dare to be a tease. “Supporting your team even off the court?”

“What can I say? They’re my favorite colors.”

“Shame, you’d look much better in white and teal.”

“Shame you wasted all your talent. Maybe if you went to Shiratorizawa, you’d be playing right now.” Oikawa immediately deflates, jaw dropping at his stares back at Iwaizumi with eyes that plead for help. The onyx-haired male only grins, biting back a chuckle at his friends’ expense. Before he can come back with a retort, the rumble of feet slamming against the ground vibrate the floor. Your turn in time for your face to smack right in the center of a broad chest, arms wrapping around you and carrying a short distance away.

“We won!” Tanaka cheers in your ear, his excitement clearly outweighing his common sense. You let it slide, instead offering a giggle as your arms wrap around him in a congratulatory hug.

“That’s great! You guys were doing incredible!” As he releases you, you turn your head to the side, now perfectly in line right beside Oikawa. “They’ll be kicking your ass in a couple days, Oikawa-san.”

“Taunting other teams already?” The lopsided grin on Kuroo’s face with his heatless words prove how little he actually cares about you doing so. He won’t admit it to anyone, but himself, but watching you stomp of the hopes of rivals always sets him alight inside. The excitement in the hall dies down with a particularly loud blow from the whistle inside the gym. Peeking inside the window, everyone pales at the score on display; 25-15.

“Aw, I missed their first set!” As the teams’ switch sides, Ushijima looks over, briefly peering out the window, but gazing out long enough for the two of you to meet stares. You give a sheepish smile, holding up a finger to signal that you’ll only be a minute longer. “I’ll catch your next match; I need to go watch this!” The comment is a blanket statement to the members of Karasuno, who all watch as you dart up the stairs in effort to climb to the bleachers to watch the second set of Shiratorizawa’s match.

“She didn’t come to watch us?” Hinata asks with a pout, still staring at the last spot you were visible at. Kuroo groans, head tilting back as his fingers dive through his messy tresses.

“No, she mainly came to see them. You were just an added bonus.”

“Oh! ~” The previously, uncharacteristically, silent Oikawa chirps to Iwaizumi. “So, I was right. Her boyfriend must be in there.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend, _especially_ not from that team.” Oikawa’s brows wiggle at the Nekoma players disgruntled response.

“Hm, I’d be more than happy to change tha – _ow! Iwa-chan_!” The brunette whines, gripping at the back of his head where his friend had smacked with no restraint.

“Don’t be so stupid, Shittykawa. She’d chew you up and spit you out.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Kuroo snickered in agreement, arms crossing over his chest as he stared down Oikawa over his nose. He’d never heard truer words spoken.

~*~*~*~*~

“Don’t forget about me!” A male from another team, whose name you’ve already forgotten, cries out as you walk away to meet Kuroo. You had been talking to him while watching the last match Shiratorizawa had for the day, idly flirting to help pass the time. With a casual wave, not bothering to glance behind you at him, you call back, “I probably will! ~” Your bedhead friend sports a wicked grin and a raised brow as you fall in line beside him, walking step for step with him despite the massive height difference.

“You really don’t give anyone a chance, do you?”

“Only who I deem worthy of my time.”

“ _And_ considering that _you’re still single_ , I’m standing behind my assumption.”

“Hey!” The back of your hand collides with his chest, no real power put behind the strike, though. “I have my interests! I’m just – I’m not looking for something serious. I want to weigh my options.”

“You’re not going to _have_ any options if you keep shooting people down.”

“I can’t help it if people bore me! I’ve talked to some guys on Tinder and all, but,” you shrug, exiting the building and stepping out into the outside world. “I’m just picky. I ghost everyone after about a day, two if they’re lucky.” You think of all the males you’ve flirted with, sent racy texts to, maybe exchanged a few lewd photos with, all before just up and vanishing. You’d even met one guy for a date. He was sweet, easy to talk to, and even easier on the eyes, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care to meet up again after that. Especially after he suddenly got clingy and started to make date suggestions that just didn’t align with your interests. You wanted a fuck buddy, not a boyfriend, and all of his suggestions reminded you of something a couple would do; ‘lets have sex and make dinner together,’ hard pass. In truth, you just loved to play the game; you loved knowing the caught these people hook, line, and sinker, but that was it. Anything passed knowing they were putty in your hands was too much like work, so you left them with radio silence. “I don’t know how people don’t want me dead,” you deadpan, considering how much your games could backfire on you if playing them with the wrong person.

“Now, _that_ just may be the greatest question you’ve ever asked.”

“It’s the million dollar one.” Kuroo casually wraps an arm around you as the two of you make your way back towards the train station.

“So, we have our first matches tomorrow. You going to drag me back out here to watch their rest of theirs on the days were free?”

“Damn right,” you snigger, tucking your body closer to his while looping an arm around his waist.

“You’re not going to be late, right, _chibi-chan_? ~”

“No, I won’t be late.” A dusting of pink coats your cheeks as the nickname registers, “A-and stop calling me that!”

~*~*~*~*~

“Fuck, Terushima!” The cry tumbles out in a higher octave, your body convulsing until you nearly collapse into the mattress. A few thrusts later and Terushima follows you over the edge, stilling as he unloads into you. He pulls out with a chuckle, tying off the end of the condom before chucking it into the nearest garbage bin. You remain on the bed, unmoved, working to regain your breath and let your body come down from your high and exhaustion. “I was surprised to find you out tonight,” it’s the first thing he’s said to you the entire night; the first thing that wasn’t an explicit on what he wanted to do to your body. With a groan, you push yourself up, slipping to the floor and gathering your clothes while muttering out a half-intrigued “why?” 

“You have a match to prepare for, don’t you?” Shock paints your face and Terushima does nothing to hide his thrill at your reaction. “Nekoma’s manager, right? I did a bit of research on you.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t. The less we know about each other, the better.” 

“Oh, come on,” the blonde leans against the door of the bedroom you had occupied, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “You’re not interested in knowing anything about me?” 

“You know how to make me cum, that’s as far as my interest goes.” A disgruntled hum is his immediate response, pushing himself off to the side as you make your way for the only exit. 

“You’re a lot meaner when the alcohol wears off.” 

“Yeah, I’m a bitch. Move.” 

“Heh,” he complied with your demand, removing himself completely from your track and standing off to the side. You don’t bother passing him another glance before opening the door and stepping out into the loud, crowded hallway. Being locked behind a separate room, mixed with the sounds of your moaning and skin slapping skin, muffled just how obnoxious the volume of the party was. Cringing, you settle on finding Yuki and getting out of there. Your buzz is gone, your regret is sinking in, and you have to get up to leave for the playoffs in just four hours. 

“Yuki, time to go.” Whether the groan he lets out is one of protest or relief, you can’t tell, but he abandons the boy he had been talking to in favor of grabbing his keys and heading for the car. You file directly behind him, ignoring the many, drunken, patrons attempting to get you to drink with them or join them in a game of beer pong. You don’t recognize any of them, but they sure as hell seem to know who you are. A silence envelopes the two of you until your both buckled into his car and pulling out of the driveway. “Surprised to see you so sound.” 

“Buzz wore off and I have shit to do in the morning.” 

“Ah, right. Nekoma faces Fukurodani tomorrow, right?” You nod with a soft hum, grabbing your phone out of the cup holder in the center console and scrolling through your messages. Unsurprisingly, there’s quite a few from Kuroo and Bokuto. 

“Oh?” The questions came out audibly, though it was meant to be just a thought. Yuki makes a noise of curiosity, brows arching as he briefly moves his focus from the road to your screen. He doesn’t look long enough to see anything of interest, more focused on not crashing the car than reading over your shoulder. “Ushijima texted me.” 

“Is that uncommon?” 

“It is at 2:30 in the morning.” Opening the message, he sent, you smile. It’s short and simple, and very much so something he would send. “He just wanted to say good luck to the team today.” 

“Is .... is he serious or is he taunting you?” You suddenly deadpan, Yuki’s question playing on a loop in your mind. 

“I ... I really don’t know.” 

By the time you both make it to your apartment, it’s 3am and neither of you have the energy to move. “I can see my room,” you whine before pointing to the bedroom window on the third floor. “My room is _right_ there! But I can’t make it.” 

“I couldn’t take those stairs if I wanted to.” 

“Fuck it?”

“Fuck it.” You both recline your seats at the same time, Yuki shutting off the car before making himself comfortable. “Night, (Name).” 

“Night, Yuki. See you in three hours.” His strangled snort of exasperation makes you giggle before your lead-weighted lids drift closed and sleep consumes you. 

~*~*~*~*~

Your tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth. Your throat feels as wide as a crushed plastic straw, and your gut is where your heart should be. Your foot raps against the floor, anxiousness overwhelming you. It’s 28-29, Fukurodani with match point, and the tension in the air is thick enough to cut. Your throat burns with the want to scream out anything you can to fire up your team, but the lack of moisture in your body keeps your lips melded shut. Pin needle glare pointed at Bokuto, focusing your frustration on him. If he were a lesser man, he’d be dead on the floor. But he knows you well enough to know the malice in your stare holds no true heat; it’s just the competitive manager side of yours rearing its head. And when the ball touches the floor on Nekoma’s side, your heart sinks to the floor. 

“It’s alright,” you assure the crestfallen group of boys after they’ve gathered off the court. “We’ve got one more shot. We’re going to make it.” 

“How do you know, (Surname)-chan?” Asks Lev with a forlorn expression that makes your chest tighten painfully. 

“Because there’s no way we’re going to be able to defeat Karasuno if you don’t.” There’s not much time in between the first match and the second, and a minute before the start of the game with Nohebi, you call Kuroo over to you. He reacts instantly, jogging to be in front of you with curious eyes. The smirk you give him is Earth shattering, and when you motion for him to crouch down, and your lips meet his cheek, he nearly keels over in astonishment. “Kill ‘em,” is all you have to say to reignite the fire in his stare. The interaction alone seems to fire up the rest of the team, feeling the determination radiate off their captain as he makes his way on to the court. It’s game time. 

“Holy shit,” you mutter alongside the resounding slam of the volleyball against the opposite side of the court. There’s a brief moment of silence before chaos ensues, Nekoma fans in the bleachers going wild as the team jumps into a huddle. “Holy shit!” You repeat louder, a newly awaken brightness in your glittering orbs as you turn to coach Nekomata. “We’re going to Nationals!” Kuroo breaks from the group huddle, his long legs carrying him to you in a matter of seconds. 

“We’re going to Nationals!” He calls out in excitement as his body slams into yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the floor and carries you off towards the door. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck as you return the embrace, head burying in the crook of his neck as you shriek out, “I know! I’m so proud of you!” As he lets your feet go back down to the floor and pulls back, there’s a different tension that lingers between the two of you. His face is close enough to where you can feel his breath ghost over your lips, tingling with the sudden urge to feel his own against you. You don’t notice your hands are resting against the sides of his neck until he pulls away, coach Nekomata calling for him to get in line with the rest of the team. Kuroo hesitates for a moment, fighting back to want to claim your lips to instead follow the rules of the game. You watch him trot away with your heart beating against your rips until they feel bruised. Once finished with thanking the other team for the game, the entire Nekoma volleyball club moved on to thank Coach Nekomata, and then - 

Your heart nearly stopped beating as every pair of eyes fell to you. “No,” you pointed a stiff finger at them, eyes narrowed with sternness. Lev took a step forward, encouraging you to take one back. “Ah! No!” It felt like trying to control an overly excited dog, ready to pounce and unleash every ounce of unrestrained energy. Once again, Kuroo broke from the pack, reaching you first and wrapping you in another tight hug. The rest of the team followed, your body respectively smashed between Kuroo, Lev, and Yaku. Yamamoto wiggles his head in between the two third years, nearly crying his praise to you for being their perfect manager. You laughed, hiding your face in Kuroo’s chest to conceal the building tears as an unlimited amount of praise and gratitude flowed from the players. You wanted to tell them you had nothing to do with it, it was their own skill and determination that got them this far. That the little help you offered was just that; minuscule. But none of the belittling words you thought came out, instead just muttering out a choked-up “Thank you.” 

~*~*~*~*~

Making it to Nationals meant more frequent and more intensive training. Luckily, you managed to bounce out of it for two days in order to travel back to Miyagi to watch Karasuno go against Aobajohsai. You’d also manage to be able to watch Shiratorizawa go against their next opponents. The only request was that you still video chat Nekoma during practices to continue doing your observation and tactical management. Tendo, ecstatic about your stay, offered to let you stay in his dorm with him. Naturally, you rejected his offer; not wanting to get him in trouble. You had plans to stay with your grandfather, who was more than happy to have you visiting him for a few days. You didn’t see him often, mostly due to the distance, but also because you needed a break from volleyball every now and then.

You stood in the stands with Yachi, Akiteru, Saeko, and the alumni that came to watch. Instantly, you noticed the fiery spark between Kageyama and Oikawa and smirked, deciding to use the brunette’s interest in you against him. “Karasuno!” The entire team looked up, having no idea you joined to watch them. Hinata jumped enthusiastically, rapidly waving to you with a wide smile.

“Beppin-chan! ~” Tanaka and Nishinoya shrieked, the hearts in their eyes practically visible. Tsukishima smirked as he caught your small figure in the crowd, wedged perfectly between the other two blonde women there to cheer on the volleyball club. The one’s who attention you wanted was still to focused on his rival, not making any more to indicate he even recognized someone called out to the team. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before cupping your hands around your mouth and screaming, “Kageyama!” At the drop of his name, the frazzled ravenette finally looked up. Oikawa’s attention had been grabbed as well, glaring at the younger male after realizing who had called for him. “Kill it!” The confident, near feral grin he gave in return nearly had you jumping in place, ready to see Karasuno take down the ever popular Aobajohsai. The shit-eating grin you passed off to Oikawa was enough to make him pout, never looking away from you as his mocha stare narrowed. Iwaizumi gruffly called for their Captain, stirring him of his silent reverie.

“(N-Name)-chan, do you,” Yachi takes a deep breath, her face flushed and fingers twirling together. Even if the glare from Oikawa was aimed for you, it speared her straight to fear. “Do you have a r-rivalry with Oikawa, too?”

“Not exactly,” a malicious snicker rolls off your tongue as you look down at the aforementioned male, “He’s just too easy to mess with.”

Rooting for Karasuno felt natural, up until the moment they won the second set and realization hit you like a bullet train. They would have to face off against Shiratorizawa. Your teasing towards Oikawa through the game feels less satisfying as you watch him glare at the ground as if he’s waiting for it to swallow him hole, to make him and all the disappointment he’s feeling vanish. As if he feels you watching him, his head snaps in your direction, but the snarl he has set and ready fades as he sees the apologetic frown gracing his direction. He may be known as a flirty playboy, but you can easily see past that wall he’s put up to keep himself from getting hurt. Fuck, you’ve been doing the same for as long as you can remember. “I’m sorry. Don’t give up,” you mouth to him right before the first of his tears fall. He makes no move to hide them from you, chewing at his bottom to lip to hide how it quivers before giving a nod in agreement.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to hang around and celebrate with Karasuno. The alarm on your phone rings out, signaling that you only have ten minutes until Tendo, and the rest of the Eagles go on. “Fuck –“ you look to Yachi and the two older siblings surrounding you, waiting for the boys to exit the gym so they can go meet them. “Tell the guys they did great and I’ll try to meet up with everyone later! I’ve got to run!” _Literally._ You do exactly that, taking off into a sprint to make your way across the building to the gym Shiratorizawa will be playing in. You’re hoping to catch them in time to talk to Ushijima before the match, but you’re cutting it close.

It took too much time to reach the gym prior to the match, but following their win, you’re the first person outside the auditorium, waiting for them to exit. “Satori-kun!”

“(Name)-chan! ~” The two of you embrace, Tendo smiling from ear to ear with you giggling as your arms tangle around his neck.

“You guys did amazing!”

“Don’t we always?” Tendo pouts at you, as if he truly takes the comment to mean anything besides what he knows it to. You can only roll your eyes, smacking him on the shoulder before pulling away.

“I think I could hear your voice over everyone else,” Semi chuckles, ruffling your hair as he joins the little circle forming around you.

“Well, of course!” You beam up at him, dazzling smile infecting him with your excitement. “How else are you going to know I’m here?”

“She has a point,” Shirabu chimes in. Tendo nods in agreement, adding, “Not like we can see her in the crowd.” You open your mouth to protest, but promptly stop because there’s no lie in the statement. “Since you’re sticking around this time, will you be joining us for dinner?”

“Sure!”

~*~*~*~*~

You join the third years for dinner, the younger members of the team opting to go home and rest up for the game tomorrow. Over dinner, Tendo whines about how you won’t give away any information on Karasuno, claiming you’re playing favorites.

“Satori-kun, how can I be playing favorites?”

“You won’t tell me anything!”

“I didn’t give them any tips, either.”

“That reminds me,” Semi pauses for a moment to take a sip of his drink, “who will you be cheering for tomorrow?” You look at him with a dumbfound expression, lips slightly parted as if you had planned to answer but lost every ounce of will power after his question settled in your mind. When Ushijima looks at you with quizzical, olive orbs, you flush. Tendo snickers at your obvious dilemma, nibbling at his food as he waits for you to muster up courage to respond. It’s as if you can _feel_ the ace willing you to say you’ll be cheering his team on, and like hell you’ll disappoint him. “Shiratorizawa, obviously.”

“It’s okay if you cheer for Karasuno. We’ll crush them either way.” The brazen statement from the Captain seems to throw everyone for a loop, each set of eyes falling on him with slow blinking lashes. You give him a soft smile brushing lose strands from in front of your face before whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “I don’t doubt you will.”

After finishing up, Semi is the first to depart, Tendo lingering around to talk with you and Ushijima a little more before the three of you go separate ways. “(Name)-chan,” you look up at the towering spiker, waiting for him to continue. “I’ll walk you home.” Words escape you, blinking owlishly up at him until a subtle elbow in your spin nudges you back to reality.

“O-okay, ‘Toshi-kun. Thank y-you.” The late autumn air is nippy, only serving as a painful reminder to how hot your face has suddenly become. The redhead giggles at the two of you, bidding a sing-son goodnight before making his way back to the dorms. When he’s far enough away that you know he won’t hear you, you turn back to Ushijima. “You don’t have to walk me home. I know it’s a decent walk from my grandfather’s back to the dorm.”

“I don’t mind.” Frowning, you go to protest more about inconveniencing him, but he simply throws an arm around your shoulder and begins walking. The warmth from him radiates like a heater and you find yourself huddling closer to him, absorbing every bit of heat he has to give. You’re always cold and the dropping temperatures does nothing to help your case. The walk home in a comfortable silence, the next words spoken not occurring until Ushijima and you are standing on the front porch of your grandfather’s house. None of the dialog is between you or the mature looking Captain, but from your white-haired family member, who berates the two of you for staying out so late before ordering Ushijima to come inside.

There’s a minor argument of who will be sleeping on the couch, Ushijima claiming it should be him, as he’s a guess who is crashing at the last moment. Of course, you retort that his large body won’t be able to fit comfortably on the small piece of furniture, but you would be more than fine. The elder of the house shuts down all debate when he tells the two of you to share the spare bedroom; the bed is large enough and he _knows_ neither of you are stupid enough to try anything funny with him around.

Even with your backs turned towards each other in the Queen-sized bed, your face is boiling the entire night, your heart fluttering in your chest over the closeness.

_Wouldn’t it be nice to have this regularly, instead of the path you know leads to nothing?_

~*~*~*~*~

“Hi. I’m the normal guy,” your jaw nearly unhinges as you watch his lips move, subtlety taunting Tendo after blocking his attack. Just as quickly as the shock hits you, pride swells up and your mouth moves into a wide smirk. 

“‘Shima-kun, keep it up!” You’ve watched his fire grow during the entire match with Shiratorizawa, and nothing could elate you more than watching the first year finally realize and accept his passion for the sport. 

Tendo’s brows arch up at Tsukishima’s words, and nearly threaten to lift off his face when he hears you call out to the young blocker. “Eh? Why is (Name)-chan cheering for _you_?” 

“I’m her favorite middle blocker,” the blonde taunts with a smug grin, never once bothering to back away from Tendo on the other side of the net. Carmine brows furrow, lips pursing as he stares Tsukishima down through narrowed eyes. 

“I don’t like you,” Tendo states breezily before moving back into position for the next play. 

You don’t get to witness the rest of their conversation, their hushed tones making lip-reading near impossible from the too subtle movements. But you know they must share some bitter words as Tendo’s lips curl into a slight snarl once back in position, focus briefly set to Tsukishima. 

“What’s going on? I’m looking at the floor, (Name)-chan!” You make a squeak at Kuroo’s exasperation, quickly re-positioning the phone in your hand to face to court. 

“Sorry, Kuroo-kun,” in truth, you forgot you were in the middle of a video call with him; the rooster-haired man wanting to watch the match between your schools rival and the notorious Powerhouse. 

“Interesting to catch you here,” you hum with a slightly teasing tone, taking a seat between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. You had abandoned your chat with Kuroo to go to the bathroom, and on your way back down to the front of the crowd, spotted the mess of espresso locks. 

“His two rivals are going head-to-head, it was impossible to keep him away,” the ravenette all but sighs out, passing a fleeting glance over at the brooding brunette. 

Oikawa is turtling inside the neck of his sweater, arms crossed over his chest as he watches with a pain riddled expression, desperately wishing the sea of orange and maroon were white and turquoise. It’s not hard to sense the internal turmoil boiling inside and you, once more, offer an apologetic frown. “You’re not a bad player, Oikawa-san. You gave it your all.” 

“It wasn’t enough,” his dejected voice hisses out. 

“Karasuno has a lot to prove, and they’re doing everything they can to recover from their fall from grace. Don’t let their overdo victory weight you down.” Lightly nudging him with your elbow, you manage to get him to look away from the game for a split second. “Lead wings will weigh you down, so lighten up. Your jump serves will be shit in Uni if you don’t.” A small smile tugs at his plush lips, and you give a faint grin in return. As Oikawa gives a thoughtful hum, you notice that even Iwaizumi looks as if a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off his shoulders. The way his beautiful emeralds sparkle at you is enough to convey his gratitude. 

“Aren’t you just an angel,” Oikawa finally coos out, his signature charm dialed up to 11 as he leans in closer towards you. “I bet you could show me heaven.” Like a switch, your brain flips from soft comfort to dark suaveness. A one-sided grin pulls your mouth to the right, bright eyes clouding as you rake over his form before matching his movements and leaning in. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him forward until the soft flesh of your lips tickle against his ear. Then, you whisper the most alluring threat he’s ever heard, “I’ll send you to heaven, when I eat you alive.” You pull back with a dazzling smile that practically screams playful innocence and Oikawa is left with his mouth open. Without another word, you hop to your feet and make your way back down to the section directly in the middle of the two teams, trying your best to be neutral. 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, barely getting out a single syllable before Oikawa raises and hand to hush his best friend. “Sh, you’ll ruin the moment.”

Iwaizumi scoffs, turning his nose up, “what moment?”

“The moment I realized I just fell in love. ~” 

“Shut up, trashykawa,” he delivers a familiar blow to the back of the other male’s head, earning a whining cry of “Iwa-chan,” in return. The calmer male of the pair allows a sliver of a smile form when he looks in your direction, grateful someone was able to pull his best friend from the despair he’d been wallowing in since their loss. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You gush about the game as you walk to school with Kuroo and Kenma, your arms moving about animatedly and your expressions constantly change, but a smile is always present. “He finally did it! Oh, kamis, you should have seen him, Kuroo-kun!” You can picture Tsukishima in your mind, the way his entire body curled as his fist wrenched in victory. Truly, there was nothing more memorable to you than watching someone so distant finally give in to their passion. “Karasuno was inspiring to watch!” Your cloud nine smile curls into a devious grin, “I can’t wait for us to destroy them at Nationals.” 

“What makes you so sure we’ll win?” Kuroo gasps as his hand clutches over his heart, staring at Kenma with disbelief. Without missing a beat, you answer, “because we have the greatest Captain supporting us!” Kuroo gives a curious hum, curios to see if you’re joking or being genuine. His brows raising as he glances over at you. “Karasuno may have a fire under their ass, but there’s no better Captain in Japan. If we want the win, he’ll take us to it.” There’s a glowing mix of certainty, determination, and adoration sparking from your intense stare at the sidewalk ahead, and it makes Kuroo ready to melt into the pavement despite the chilly weather. 

“Greatest Captain?” He snorts, trying to push off the compliment, “Thought that was Ushijima.” His voice holds a faint laugh, if only to conceal the bite of jealousy gnawing at his self-conscious. 

“No. It’s you, always has been.” He slows his pace, bringing himself to walk directly beside you. 

“You really think that?” His voice is softer, quieter than normal, as if in complete disbelief of what you’d said. Kenma, ever the observant one, notes the sudden shift in atmosphere around the two of you and further engrossed himself in his game, slightly quickening his pace to put a cozy distance between the two of you and him. 

“Of course, I do.” You look up to find Kuroo staring down at you, his smoldering stare forcing heat to rise through your body. Smiling, you add, “I’ve never lied to you, Kuroo-kun. I wouldn’t about this, either.” Just like after the game against Nohebi, there’s a thick tension that clouds the air around you that makes your breath freeze in your throat. When Kuroo wraps a hand around the back of your head, staring down at you with those soul-snatching hues of melted gold, you think it’s finally happening; he’s going to kiss you. 

And fuck, if he doesn’t think about it. But he doesn’t do it. 

Kuroo pulls you into him, your head cradled against his chest with his free arm secured around your body, holding you as close as he can. With a shaky breath that hitches just as he speaks, he gives a hushed “thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me on Twitter for story updates and general fuckery: @VictoriaWitch2  
> Also, feel free to follow me on TikTok! More content being made and (eventually) cosplays of my OCs! @only_ocs


	3. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been working on this chapter for a while. Went on a two week vacation and was able to type almost all of this during the thirteen hour car ride home!   
> There's a be of a ..... lime(?) in here, too!

“Are you excited?”

“I don’t think excited is the word, but I’m ready to get back in the gym,” Semi answers with a wistful expression, looking up at the bottom of the top bunk. “I wish we could have played more.”

“Aw, Semi,” you roll onto your side, staring at the ash blonde with a small frown and knitted brows. “You’ll have other opportunities to play!”

“ _If_ we decide to play in University,” Tendo reminds, a subtle hint that some of the players have already decided not to pursue the sport after their third year.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be the same.” Semi’s chocolate stare scrolls around the other third years littering the space in the dorm room. “I wouldn’t have my team.” His words hit harder than you anticipated, thinking of all the incredible third years who made their final plays; some for the season, some for the rest of their lives. It stings with a nostalgic pain you thought you had long abandoned, having settled on your decision to forsake the passion long ago.

“You’ll play again,” you assure them, being sure to make eye contact with the five males seated sporadically through the room. _“I’ll make sure of it.”_

“Uh-oh,” Tendo snickers as he folds himself in half, lifting his back from the headboard to curl closer to the edge of the bed; towards you. He digs a finger into your cheek playfully, “(Name)-chan has the same look on her face that her _Captain_ wears. She’s scheming! ~” Cheeks erupting in baby pink, you pout at his, swatting at his hand in attempt to end his torment.

“Shut up, Satori-kun! I’m thinking, not scheming!”

“I think it’s all the same where you’re involved,” Snickers Ohira, offering up a piece of himself to the conversation for the first time of the night. He and Ushijima usually kept to themselves, observing the rest of the third-year group discussions rather than partaking in them. A hand covers your heart in mock hurt, eyes closing as you force your lower lip to quiver.

“I see how it is, everyone gang up on poor, little me.”

“Aw,” Semi scoots to the edge of his bed, leaning forward while resting his elbows against his knees, “is our little (Name)-chan getting her feelings hurt?”

“Maybe she needs a hug,” Soekawa suggests with a song-song lilt, effectively forcing all attention to befall Ushijima.

 _“Oh, they’re going to be the death of me.”_ You roll away from the group, your back facing them in effort to conceal the embarrassment building in your face. It was a curse, the entire team being able to see your feelings so plainly for their Captain. The third years especially made it impossible to hide from, doing everything in their power to force the two of you to realize the other’s attraction.

The quickened, rhythmic thump in your chest skips a beat as the mattress dips behind you from the added weight. When an arm snakes around your middle, your widened orbs shift to look at the redhead blushing and giggling in the corner at the head of the bed. Tendo holds a fist to his mouth, gently chewing at a knuckle to sniffle his excited laughter. Craning your head back, you find a pair of breath-taking olive globes staring down at you. His eyes hold all the emotion his face is devoid of and you quickly find yourself drowning in the obvious admiration he holds towards you.

You almost don’t believe it, believe the truth radiating from _him_ , because how could he possibly think so highly of you? Even if he doesn’t know about the partying, the vicious cycle of flirting with guys for a day or two before ghosting them, and hooking up with Terushima at the parties you find him at; there’s no reason for Ushijima to feel so positively towards you. Of course, he’d quickly argue that by curtly listing the various attributes about you that he finds to be likeable. You’re a top student, you tutor those who need assistance -including Ushijima-, you’re friendly and always willing to help, and you love volleyball. Would he still look at you the same if he knew the truth? Would that brightness in his eyes still ignite at the sight of you? You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to risk losing someone who meant to world to you. As many people viewed him as stoic and uncaring -aside from volleyball- you knew the truth. Ushijima was sweet, tooth-rotting sweet, even with his blunt nature. He would do everything in his power to help you, see a smile on your face. You love him, without doubt, without question. But you couldn’t tell him. Letting him in that close, it risked him discovering the truth. Or having to come up with more complex lies to avoid telling him about your less favorable behaviors. 

Lost in your thoughts, you missed how the rest of the third years creeped out of the room, allowing you privacy with the enormous Captain. As you snapped back to reality, you noticed the two of you had been staring into each other’s eyes the entire time. Heat flooded your cheeks, flesh blooming with color as your icy stare darted to the side. Ushijima gave a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging just enough to make the simple enjoyment of the moment noticeable. He reached a hand up, tucking some hair behind your ear that had been obscuring his view of your embarrassment. “Stay the night with me,” the way he said it was impossible to determine if he was telling you or asking, but there didn’t seem to be any room to argue. Not that you wanted to, anyways. Already wrapped under one of his arms, you’d never felt safer or more comfortable. Leaving the warmth, he was providing felt like a disservice to yourself as much as it would be a jab in the heart to him. 

“I should call -“ 

“Taken care of! ~ I did it when you first got here!” Tendo chimes as he peeks his head back into the room, a mile-wide smile plastered to his face. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the boys plotted for you and Ushijima to have a night of privacy, they had been pushing the two of you together since your feelings became obvious. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t need to have been pushed this far to even consider confessing to him. You’ve never been one to deny yourself of what you wanted, even if your -previous- shy nature made going after your goals a heart-racing endeavor. There was no doubt in your heart or mind, you wanted Ushijima the same way your body needed water. Desperately. 

With how easy it is to put back a handle of liquor, you really would think it would be easier to convince yourself to hydrate better. 

The door softly clicking shut is the only indication Tendo has finally made himself scarce, as much as you pleaded in your mind that he wouldn’t. Any moisture in your mouth dries up the moment you find olive orbs fixated on your lips, his fingers briefly flexing into your hip. “Waka -“

“I want to kiss you.” Your heart skips a beat. Then another. Finally, it slams against your rib cage with enough force to leave you winded. The rational portion of your mind is screaming, voice raw with emotion as it lists the many reasons agreeing to such a thing is a horrible idea. Getting closer is dangerous, for both of you. All you can envision is the endless secrets and inevitable pain you both would be left in, the excruciating wake of your self-destructive tendencies. But the idea of his hot skin against yours, bodies entangled, and lips locked is equivalent to finding an oasis in the dead of a desert. 

“I want you to,” the certainty of your voice startles you, unsure of how you managed to answer him in such a smooth tone. Unaware that you gave in to such a simple pleasure. You don’t even have time to chastise yourself for being so selfish before his breath is ghosting over your lips. 

Ushijima is propped up on a forearm, his other hand slipping from around your waist to cup your face, his thumb caressing against your cheek bone before the soft flesh of his lips finally meet yours. You break away first, the way your neck craned back immediately threatening to form a kink. Before the brunette has a moment to overthink your behavior, you roll to face him, hands sprawling across his clothed chest. Fuck, the things you’d do to have your nails rake over the bare pecs that hide under the cotton barrier. The way you look at him, eyes full of want and pleading for more, he doesn’t have to ask what you want. 

He rolls, his forearm beside your head as his body lingers over you, his hand placed beside your head on the other side, caging you in. 

Your hands gracefully glide up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers brushing the short hairs at the back of his head as you guide his lips back to yours. A heat pools in your lower stomach as he groans softly, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, asking permission to enter. You part your lips, tongue darting to meet and battle with his own. Your hands unconsciously slide to rest between his shoulder blades, whining into his mouth as you apply pressure to his back. Taking the hint, he lays his body flush against yours, still being sure to keep himself propped on his arms to prevent putting all his weight on you. “‘Toshi,” you breathlessly gasp out, feeling the impressive bulge of his half-hard length against your thigh. Even at half-mast, it’s blatantly obviously he’s larger than either of the two men you’ve previously been with. 

“May I touch you?” His gravelly voice sends a bolt of electricity through you, the deep bass prickling your skin. You nod hastily, despite already doing far more with him than you should have ever allowed yourself to. When two of his meaty fingers press against your clit, over your sweatpants, your eyes roll back. The pressure, knowing _he’s_ touching you, nearly enough to send you into your end. Countless times you’d imagined Ushijima kissing you, touching you, being the reason, you reached bliss. 

“More,” you moan out to him, guiding his hand to the waistband of your black sweats. Ushijima complied with ease, running his hand over your stomach before sliding inside and rubbing you over the cloth of your panties. His fingers moved in tight, perfectly pressured circles. Slick pooled between your thighs, the sticky fluid making the thin fabric cling to your folds. Ushijima curled a finger to pull your soaked panties to the side, the top of his appendage dipping in between your folds before slowly pushing inside your soft walls. You grip at his shoulders, already panting and at the edge of an orgasm. 

He studies your face closely, watching as your beautiful features contour in pleasure every time his fingers thrusts inside. Ushijima adds another finger, groaning out as your walls flutter around him. His pumps his fingers faster, more vigor behind his movements as he curls them inside to press against your sweet spot repeatedly. “‘Toshi, ah, ‘Toshi! I-I’m so close,” your broken moans spur him on further, brutalizing his pace until the coil in your stomach snaps. He leans down to swallow your cries of pleasure, not wanting to alert the others to what the two of you had been doing. 

Your slick muscles twirl around each other, languidly continuing to make out as you come down from your high. 

His cock is rock hard against you and the want, the need, to free him of his confides and make him bust is overwhelming. Your hands dart to the waistband of his shorts, but he catches your wrists, stopping you from exposing the monster he keeps trapped inside the silky cloth. “We should sleep,” he tells you, voice a husky, lust ridden murmur. He craves to feel your hands wrapped around his red-hot cock, pumping him until you engulf him in the warm wetness of your mouth. The thought alone makes his painfully hard dick twitch, pleading to coat your throat in ropes of white. 

Ushijima has already gone much farther than he planned to tonight, not originally having any plan to enjoy any sexual exploits with you. Not yet. Aside from that, he can see the exhaustion painted clear on your face. Rooted deep in your glazed over optics. As much as he’d love to live out some of the fantasies he’s envisioned in his mind with his own hand wrapped around his thick length, he’s not willing to push farther than the two of you have ventured. He places a gentle kiss at the base of your jaw, rolling on to his back and pulling you with him. With your head against his chest, his arm wrapped around your back, he makes himself comfortable against the pillow and closes his eyes. “We have to be up early,” he reminds you with enough nonchalance to make you question if you just came on his fingers. Arguing with him is futile, especially when he has set his mind on something; and he’s dead set on the two of you resting. Dawning a small smile, you nod, lightly humming in agreement before cuddling into him. 

It’s the first night you go to sleep completely at ease, no self-hatred clouding your thoughts and keeping you awake. No senseless tossing and turning, begrudgingly waking up every hour. No, you sleep soundlessly, peacefully. It’s a different kind of bliss, one you never expected to experience. Something so surreal it makes you consider biting the bullet and coming clean. 

But you don’t. You won’t. He doesn’t need to know that side of you. You can’t ruin what you’re building with him. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

You follow at the back of the pack, your head held just as high as the Shiratorizawa third years. You don’t plan to play today, but you match their confidence, not wanting to diminish the powerful aura radiating from the rest. You fall in line with the rest as you come to the edge of the court, nestled comfortably beside Semi at the end of the line. You hear an immediate tsk from Tsukishima, but despite his noise of distaste, he wears a minor smirk that portrays his approval of your appearance at the camp. The rest of the camp players seem just as baffled, not only by the third-years surprise, but from the presence of the unknown female accompanying them. Paying no mind to the quizzical glances passed in your direction, you listen as the coaches announce how the next matches will go. A few minutes in, your focus falters, falling to a stone-face, orange haired boy lingering off behind the taller members. Instinctively, your head cants to the side, crooked in inquisition over the surprise appearance of Hinata. You know he wasn’t invited to the camp, despite your insistent quips that he should be more than welcomed. 

_“Hardheaded old man,”_ you think to yourself, passing a glance at Washijo. Tsukishima notices your focus on the small male and stifles a grunt, still astound by his idiocy. And knowing you, you’ll laugh it off, complimenting the ball of sunshine and determination for refusing to be left behind. Naturally, Tsukishima still holds a slight resentment towards him for being able to stick around, even if he is just a ball boy. More importantly, he’s jealous; jealous that the tiny tangerine managed to capture your heart so quickly. Tsukishima would never admit it, being the endless supply of salt and sarcasm, he is, but he respects you immensely. In truth, he’d be more than content with being able to consider you a friend. Dense as an oak tree, the blonde doesn’t realize you already consider him to be an important person in your life. He’s not just another boy you manage, someone you offer training assistance to, someone you analyze. He is a friend. He has been since the end of that training camp when he conceded to his own stubbornness and requested your guidance. 

There are more than a few faces you don’t quite recognize at the training camp, but it doesn’t stop you from watching them like a hawk; critiquing their plays, their form, their attitude. More than a few times your focus is stolen by the tall brunette with perfectly tanned skin and earthy eyes. He’s a powerhouse in his own right and watching him is just as much of a treasure as knowing him is. Tendo does an excellent job at throwing you wiggling, knowing, brows and shit-eating grins. If he knows what transpired between you and the Captain the prior night, you have no idea, but it’s clear he’s confident he knows something happened. During a break, Hinata is quick to approach you, a mile-wide smile spread across his face. Everyone seems to quiet down, trying to be as casual as possible as they turn their attention to your conversation with the energetic ball boy. “(Name)-chan! What are you doing here?” Not seeing a reason in lying, you shrug, pointing a finger over at the silver-haired coach. 

“Shiratorizawa’s coach is my grandfather.” Everyone in the gym is floored, completely caught off by the revelation. Majority of the boys assumed you were simply dating one of the senior players, or perhaps had become the manager for the junior-comprised Volleyball club. “He asked me to come out to the camp. Assess the boys for him.” 

“What gives you the right to judge us?” A boy from the opposite end of the court calls out, a nerve clearly struck at the idea of this seemingly regular girl deciding their worth. Washijo doesn’t bother to hold back the scoff he makes at the boy’s brazen outburst, instead deciding to point to you and then the ball clutched between Hinata’s hands. 

“(Name), make the serve to start the next match.” Snickers echo around the gymnasium, a few even escaping Tsukishima before he regains his composure. Your analytic skills are exquisite, your knowledge of the game and how to improve the players nearly unmatched. But you’re small, easily four inches below where even Hinata stands. You making any serve must be a joke, maybe a way to boost morale by giving the boys a break from Ushijima’s rockets. 

You take the ball from Hinata, replacing Ushijima on the court. The other boys get into position, posture slack and devoid of any urgency. Whatever you’re about to give them is a grateful reprieve from what they’ve been dealing with. You smack the ball against the ground a few times, testing your power and getting a feel for the ball. Tendo stands in the front, grinning like a maniac at the junior players. Him and Tsukishima lock eyes, the blonde ready to block your measly serve to simply remind you that the court isn’t your place. “Don’t blink,” the redhead teases, making Tsukishima scowl at him. 

But the comment is more advice than it is teasing. Time practically seems to stop as you execute a jump serve, the ball flying over the net and right past Karasuno’s blocker before he even has a chance to register what happened. The ball smacks against the ground with a resounding crack, the echo of the force the only sound in the room. The boys stare wide-eyed between your stoic expression and the ball that struck on the opposite side of the court. You weren’t as powerful as Ushijima, but many would argue that your serves were faster. Hinata and Tsukishima especially stare at you with mouths gaped open, unbelieving of the spectacle before them. To say neither considered you played volleyball was a lie, but certainly neither expected you to be as skilled as you clearly are. 

“That’ll be all,” your grandfather calls out to you, the ghost of a smirk across his lips. He would never hound you about it, like Ushijima does after he watches you play, but he wished you’d never stopped playing. You’d have done Shiratorizawa proud. 

From the side, Hinata listens as Tendo and Tsukishima discuss your playing abilities. “She played in middle school,” Tendo tells them in between his focus on the match at hand. “Stopped to focus on school.” 

“But she’s incredible!” 

“Heh,” the wild redhead snickers, passing a fleeting glance to the bright-eyed crow, “you have no idea.” He goes on to explain that, much like Ushijima, you used to be the ace and captain of your team. While you never ruled over them with an iron fist, like the fierce Kageyama did with his old team, they took your suggestions and advice as law. You grew up around volleyball, your grandfather engrained it into your genetics. You lived and breathed the sport, not just due to his influence, but for your genuine love for it. Had you stuck with it, you’d have become a pro player. Tendo has no doubts about that. “So, why did she decide to focus on school?” Tsukishima asks almost begrudgingly, not entirely fond of Shiratorizawa’s Guess Monster. 

“She wants to become a doctor.” The answer they received was far more of a surprise than it should have been. Tsukishima knew from Kuroo that you were a top student, and just as much of a science nerd as the scheming Captain was. As a manger you had to know some basic first aid, but your knowledge of it seemed to surpass what was required. Your interest in medicine was blatantly obvious, the two first-years were simply oblivious to what was in front of them. 

When the match finally comes to an excruciating end, the third years victorious once again, Hinata trots over time his teammate. “Tsukishima, come with me to talk to (Name)-chan!” The blonde doesn’t mind doing so, more than comfortable enough with you. You assisted with every practice he partook in with Kuroo and Bokuto, and the two of you conversed rather frequently over the phone. He gives the smaller male a curt nod, following him over to where you stood. Unsurprisingly, you stood between Ushijima and Tendo, talking and giggling with the unlikely duo. “(Name)-chan!” You turn to look at the Karasuno boys, flashing a bright smile and simple wave to them in return. You had been in the middle of a conversation about the upcoming tournament in Tokyo, boasting about your confidence in Nekoma to win while Ushijima, yet again, claimed you’d be of more use at Shiratorizawa; on the court. Hinata wiggled himself next to Tendo, giving him access to be directly beside you. Tsukishima stops a safe distance away, slightly behind the two males, but in the space between them so that he can see you through the gap. “Why did you stop playing volleyball?” Hinata’s direct question does nothing to unsettle you, used to such sharpness from Ushijima. You also expected the question would come up at some point, having caught snippets of Tendo’s conversation with the two boys. 

“You see what everyone did when my grandfather asked me to serve?”

“They laughed, so what?” 

“That’s just the thing. No one wants a tiny server, and that’s where I excel. Besides, I love managing for Nekoma!” 

“Tendo said your team loved you.” 

“They did, but there’s no promise that would have carried over into high school. Being real, I’m a shrimp. I’m small and easily overlooked. I have the power, the speed, and the brain to take any team I want a far as possible. But no one has the faith in me, because of my size. You were lucky, Hinata-kun. Karasuno is comprised of some of the most accepting individuals I’ve met. Not all teams are as ...... approving of tiny players. We just don’t seem valuable.” Tendo decides to finally join the conversation, snaking an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. 

“(Name) should have come here! The girls would have loved her just as much as us! She would have dominated!” Catching your frown, he winks before adding, “Or she could have been our sweet little manager! I doubt we’d be able to share you with the girls.” The playful visage he wears falters as his vermilion optics fall to Ushijima. The larger male is hyper-fixated on where Tendo’s fingers curl around you, his usual stoic expression seeming hardened. Tendo lets go of you with a curious hum and smile that only seems to serve as confirmation to his own thoughts. Something happened between you and Ushijima, no doubts about it. In the beginning, it was near impossible to tell how the brunette felt towards you. Due to his lack of expression majority of the time, no one could tell if he had romantic feelings towards you or if he simply viewed you like a sister. Tendo, being closer to Ushijima and more in-tune with his subtle clues, was quick to pick up on the true nature of the Captains feelings. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

_“Tendo,” he looked up, smiling at the curious-ridden boy._

_“Yes, Ushijima?”_

_“Who is that?” He nodded his head towards the tiny female he had never seen before. Icy locks flowing down her back, stopping a few inches below the lowest point of her shoulder blades. A smile on her face that reached all the way to her artic eyes. He had never noticed you before and was immediately enraptured by your beauty alone. The fact you seemed comfortable with their coach and inside a gym only furthered his interest._

_“Ah! ~ That’s (Name)! She’s coach’s granddaughter.”_

_“Does she go here?” Tendo had to bite his cheek to keep from smirking. How quickly you’d captured Ushijima’s attention a pleasant surprise._

_“No, she goes to Nekoma.”_

_“Hm,” Ushijima said nothing more of the matter, simply returning to practice. As their match continued on, Tendo couldn’t help but to notice the way his friend’s attention shifted off to the sidelines before every serve, observing you. Being the wonderful wingman in disguise that he is, Tendo decided to get involved._

_“(Name)!” Ushijima halted his serve, practically glaring at the blocker who called out to you. “Why don’t you try to block Ushijima?” You looked to Washijo for permission, which he granted without hesitation. You passed your wild-eyed friend a nod before shuffling onto the opposite side of the court, earning a curious look from Semi and some of the senior players. You waved it off with an acknowledging nod towards them before getting ready. Ushijima almost hesitated, questioning just how fair it is to serve at full power with you on the court. But, having never been one to hold himself back for the sake of others, he launched the ball over. In subconscious effort not to make you hate him, he aimed for as far from you as possible. But it doesn’t matter. You crossed the court with practiced ease, receiving the serve with a barely noticeable wince, sending the ball right back to his side. In absolute shock over your speed and precision, no one moved to keep the volley going and Tendo seamlessly caught the ball in both hands after it bounced off the ground._

_“Guess that makes it your serve,” he chirped before rolling the ball back to your temporary team. You crouch down to pick up the ball, swiftly turning on your heels to face the boy who would be serving. “Do you mind?” You asked, keeping the ball in one hand while pointing to the server’s position with the other. At a loss for words, all he could manage was to shake his head and move out of the way._

_Situated comfortably in your natural zone, you locked stares with Ushijima. You passed him a smirk and a tormenting, silently mouthed claim of, “I’m coming for you.” The players on the opposite side of the court watched with bated breath, having no idea what to expect. You were small, so your speed made sense. Surely, your serves couldn’t be any worse than that they’d dealt with from the earth-toned boy._

_Wrong._

_Ushijima managed to receive your serve, but the ball shot straight into the air rather than back to your side of the court. He caught it as it fell back from space, once again with full focus on you. It was that moment, feeling his skin burn red, muscles tingling from the impact, that he knew he wanted you. Unknowingly to him, the feeling was immediately reciprocated._

_Tendo hummed to himself as he glanced away from you, shifting his attention to Ushijima. Oh, he knew then and there the two of you would form something for the rest to root for._

**~*~*~*~*~**

“I forget how close you and (Name) are,” Ushijima states with his normal frankness as he and Tendo walk back towards the dorms. Per Washijo’s request, you stuck around to continuing assisting with the training camp for the day. 

“Huh? Oh!” Tendo quickly realized Ushijima was talking about his pointed reaction to holding you. He snickered, waving it off. “It’s okay to be jealous, Waka-chan!” His lips curled up, knowing now was the perfect chance to extract every ounce of information he could gather. “I know just how much you like (Name). That’s why she stayed in your room last night, isn’t it?” He didn’t miss the subtle dusting of pink along the taller members cheeks, eliciting another snicker. “I knew you two were up to something! So, what happened?” Ushijima didn’t immediately answer, milling over how to answer that question. A lot happened between the two of you, but it didn’t seem to be enough to push either of you to confess. In terms of a romantic sense, nothing happened. The two of you were not dating, but it was clear both of you were pining over each other. 

“I fingered her.” As the words hit his ears, Tendo stopped walking, brows knitting together as he seemed to struggle to process the information. 

“What?” 

“I asked her if I could kiss her. She said yes. We kept going. I fingered her and then we went to bed.” Blinking rapidly, Tendo could feel his heart seizing in his chest, the gears in his brain working at full speed to keep up with the words pouring from Ushijima. He knew Ushijima had experience; it was a given after the few girlfriends he had. But he also knew the male wasn’t big on showing a lot of affection or allowing his hormones to get the best of him. Was he so attracted to you that he just so easily succumbed to his wants? “Tendo?” 

“I heard you! I’m just,” he paused to laugh before playfully punching Ushijima in the arm. “We should have left the two of you alone ages ago!” 

“I didn’t tell her,” he admitted more quietly than he anticipated. “How I feel towards her.” 

“Ushi!” He groaned into his hands, nearly sobbing in frustration. Upon the relegation of the two of you being sexually active together, he immediately assumed it was because of the two of you finally coming clean about your obvious feelings towards each other. “Did she say anything to you?” 

“No. Was she supposed to?” 

“You’re both miserable,” he whined, knowing full well he’d have to find another way to meddle to get the two of you to finally take your relationship to a new level. “How are you two going to be together if neither of you confess to the other?” 

“What would she need to confess about?” It took every ounce of power not to scream in frustration. How could he be so blind? 

“She likes you! She’s probably in love with you! Can you really not tell?” Ushijima only grunts in response. He had his suspicions, but most girls that admired him were so open about expressing their desire to be with him, that your reclusive behavior only confused him. He can see Tendo in the corner of his vision, mouth moving a warp speed, hands flailing in exasperation. But Ushijima is deaf to his friend’s words, thoughts consumed with your behavior around him. Simply working off memory to confirm or deny Tendo’s claim of your unspoken feelings. Rather than work himself into a frenzy, he decides the direct approach is more favorable to him and asks Tendo, “has she told you how she feels about me?” 

“Yes!” Tendo all but screams, head craning back as if to call up to the gods. “Wakatoshi! She’s liked you since the first day you two met!” 

“She impressed me,” he admits with a faint grin, recalling your admirable skills. “She still does.” His brows furrow, making Tendo’s raise with curiosity over what could be going through his head. “I’ll have to talk to her.” 

“Good! Now,” Tendo’s lips curl into his signature cat-grin, immediately alerting Ushijima and striking him with an unsettling feeling in his stomach, “tell me about the spicy parts!” 

Tendo would have more than enough fun hounding the details out of both of you, reveling in your embarrassment while feeling relieved over something of substance sprouting between you. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” you whine, crashing backwards into your bed, phone in hand. “I’ve only been gone for a few days.” 

“Yes, and they’ve been the longest days of my life!” 

“You’re so dramatic, Kuroo-kun. I’m sure Kenma and the others have kept you plenty occupied.” 

“I am not, and they’re not as much fun as you, chibi-chan.” You question why that nicknames forces heat into your face and lower stomach. Your silence makes Kuroo chuckle, picturing your flustered expression in his mind. “Also, when are you going to just call me Kuroo?” A simple question, but it knocks the air from your lungs. You were just as close with Kuroo as you were Tendo and Ushijima, and while you still used honorifics while talking to them, you at least used their first names. 

“Alright, then just Kuroo it is!” You smile against the phone, suddenly realizing how excited you are to return home to your other friends. 

“Good,” he snickers, practically reading your emotions without having to see you. He’s picked up on the subtle shifts in tone to always know what’s really going on. He knows all your tells, which is why you only ever manage to be able to lie to him over text. A fact that made you exponentially stiff back when you almost arrived late to their training camp. If he asked you about why you died off and ignored everyone contacting you, you’d never been able to get away with telling a lie. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?” 

“I’m actually meeting up with Hinata and ‘Toshi to go out!” The subtle gasp you made mixed with the heightened pitch of _his_ name made Kuroo’s entire mood sour. Every time you mentioned Ushijima a wave of envy was sent through the noirette. He hated how much you admired the male, only because he wanted to be the person you spoke that way of. Kuroo wanted to be at the center of your affection, but it would seem the spot was filled by an oversized Eagle. His silent seething simmered as the other name mentioned settled. “Wait, Hinata? From Karasuno?” 

“Yeah! He and ‘Shima are here.” Kuroo hums, thinking to himself how odd your companionship duo is; the two polar opposites of the other. 

“What time does your train come in?” 

“Why?” Narrowing your eyes, you sit up, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re not going to go out of your way to make sure I get in, are you?” 

“Of course not. I just want to make sure you’ll be showing up on time for Monday classes.” 

“I will be on time tomorrow,” you giggle, slipping off your bed to search for something to change into. You set the phone on top of your dresser, putting the call on speaker to allow you to continue to talk to your Captain while getting ready. “I’ll meet you and Kenma in the morning.” 

“And you’ll bring me breakfast?” 

You scoff as you toss your shirt onto the floor, “and why would I do that?”

“You ditched me this weekend,” the pout he wears sounds through his voice. 

“Ditched you? I don’t recall you ever making plans with me, Kuroo.” 

“I wanted to! But then you hit me with, ‘I’m running away to cheat on you with Shitatorizawa.’” You pause your outfit critique to roll your eyes before turning to the side to assess how your ass looks in the jeans you put on. 

“I’m not cheating on you. But, how about we do something this week?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! Whatever you want, it’ll just be the two of us. Gods forbid you think anyone else has my attention,” even with the joking tone you wear, the sentiment makes Kuroo smirk. “I know how needy you are.” 

“Only with you.” Blush nips at your cheeks and ears. Mentally you chide yourself over how easily he flusters you. You would never deny how attractive the Scheming Captain is, or how smitten you were with him. Ushijima may not be the best at expressing his emotions in front of others, but you could read between the lines. The other night only served to concrete your thoughts on his feelings. It was different with Kuroo, he was a natural flirt, so you knew not to take his behavior as actual advances. No matter how real you wished they were. Looking over your outfit in the mirror, you nod, deciding it was casual enough for just going to the mall, but looked cute enough to hopefully snag Ushijima’s attention. You don’t bother to take the conversation off speaker as you walk downstairs to grab your wallet and shoes. “Careful now, Kuroo. I’ll start to think you have a crush on me.” 

“Wouldn’t that just be the highlight of your day?” You don’t need to see him to know he’s sporting a grin like the cat that caught the canary. 

“You wish,” you snicker, stopping in the den and spotting your grandfather biting back a smirk. “I’ll text you later, Kuroo. I’m off to meet the boys.” 

“You better. See ‘ya!” When you pocket the device, you cross a single arm across your front, pouting as you stare at the white-haired man. 

“What?” 

“An eagle and a black cat. Quite the decision you have to make.” Washijo chuckles lowly as you dart your attention off to the side, as if it would do anything to cover the embarrassment tinting your cheeks or the pout you wear. “How was your night with Ushijima?” The tickle of warmth in your face erupts into a full burn, red coloring from the top of your ears, down your neck. Tendo had assured you that when he called their coach to alert him you’d be staying in the dorms, that you were sleeping in the extra bunk in his room. Not with the focus of your affection. 

“H-how did you -“ 

“I’m old, not naive.” His subtle chuckles turn into a hearty laugh as you flounder, fidgeting in place as you struggle to form coherent thoughts. “It’s fine, (Name). I trust you to be safe. Have you told him how you feel?” It’s shameful how even the old man can plainly see how much you pine over his star player. 

“N-no. I don’t want to be a distraction. Besides, ‘Toshi isn’t interested in dating.” Washijo lets out a prolonged hum, chin raising as he pointedly glances up at the ceiling. That claim may normally be true, but even he can see how much the boy yearns for your affection. Stubborn and oblivious, he notes to himself in regard to the two of you. “I’m off to meet up with him and Hinata-kun.”

“The one who snuck into the camp?”

“The one _you_ should have invited to the camp; I believe you meant.” He replies with a throaty grunt, waving his hand in the air to chase off your quip. You’d never let him hear the end of it for not sending him an invitation, after he had spent so many years assuring you that your height didn’t matter since you were such a valuable player. His scornful visage makes you giggle, moving over to kiss his cheek before heading towards the front door to get your shoes. “I’ll be back early enough for us to have dinner before I go back home!” He only makes a noise in response, just enough to signal he heard you. You quickly toe on your shoes before calling out to him one more time, saying goodbye before taking off out the door and towards your meeting point with the two boys. 

~*~*~*~*~

Bokuto laughs as Kuroo ends the call, his expression painted with irritation and colored green with envy. At first, he had been more curious as to why you were getting so close to the crows, even spending time with them outside of training camps. It didn’t bother him in the least, but it intrigued him. You weren’t a social butterfly by any means, but you didn’t exactly fall into anti-social territory, either. Most of the people you befriended were because they spent time with Kuroo or some of the other players. Unless you were introduced by someone you were close with and ending up spending time with someone through also being around your established friends, you didn’t go out of your way to know someone. Karasuno must have truly piqued your interested if you were willingly going against your norm to interact with them. 

But tormenting his friend over his obvious aggravation was far more entertaining than questioning the shift in behavior. “What? Afraid Ushijima will steal away your precious chibi-chan?” He uses the nickname mockingly, practically singing it as he stares down the narrowed pools of gold before him. 

“No way in hell is he stealing her from me.” 

Bokuto snorts, picking at the food on his plate, “I’m surprised your admitting to liking her.”

Kuroo deadpans at his friend’s surprise, “have I not made it obvious?” 

“No!” Bokuto lets out a laugh, “I just assumed you liked teasing her.” The owlish boy shrugs, looking up to meet the dark gaze burning into him, “The only two to make their admiration obvious are those two bumbling crows.” Kuroo knows exactly who he’s talking about, the two who joined in with Yamamoto to ogle over the team managers; Nishinoya and Tanaka. “It’s not like you gossip to me over your love life.” 

“I don’t have a love life.”

“But you could! ~” Bokuto gives a closed-eye smile before giving a wild grin and crossing his middle finger over his index. “You and (Name)-chan could be like this!” Kuroo scoffs, looking down at his phone and tapping the screen. The device lights up, showing the lock screen; a picture of you, him, and Kenma. Kuroo is in the middle, slightly behind you and Kenma. His one hand rests against Kenma’s shoulder, ignoring how the younger male is nose deep in his game rather than posing for the picture. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you pressed close to him. Your sole focus is on the camera, eyes wide and bright, smile blindingly beautiful. Kuroo sports a content grin of his own, but his eyes are clearly on you rather than directly ahead. He taps a blunt nail over the picture, considering his friends claim. Reluctantly, with a sudden sharpness in his chest, he shakes his head. 

“Nah, (Name)-chan is in love with Ushijima.” 

“Thought you said you weren’t going to lose to him.” 

“I lost before I even had a chance,” he quickly locks his phone and flips it over, he’ll deal with that haunting realization on his own time. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

You’re more than pleasantly surprised to find an addition to your group. “Kageyama,” you call out to him with a smile as you approach. “Great to see you again!” He nods, his appreciation radiating from his steely blue eyes rather than his facial expression. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I invited him!” Hinata anxiously rubs at the back of his neck, but you shake your hand to clear his uncertainty. 

“Not at all! It’ll be nice to catch up with you two!” 

“You look nice,” Ushijima spontaneously says. You smile, forcing yourself not to fidget at the hem of your sweater. Unwittingly, you ended up throwing together an outfit consisting of the school colors for Shiratorizawa. A white cable-knit sweater with maroon jeans and brown ankle-boots. Simple and cute, exactly what you were going for. 

“Thank you!” You appreciate his compliment as he quickly adds, “You should have gone to Shiratorizawa.” As quick as you are to realize he says it from enjoying the way you look in his school colors, the countless other times he’s said it rings more clearly in your mind. 

You pout at him, “I love Nekoma, I regret nothing.” 

“After all, Kuroo-san is your best friend!” Hinata chimes with confidence brimming his expression, laced in his words. Until you shake your head, ‘no.’ 

“Kuroo is definitely one of my closest friends, but Satori is my best friend.” 

“The Guess Monster?” Kageyama questions, half expecting he has the wrong person in mind. Until you nod with the brightest smile you’ve ever bestowed upon the Miyagi boys. 

“Yep! He’s been my closest friend since the start of middle school!” You feign a startled noise when you look over at Ushijima, his face contoured as if he had eaten something bitter. When the realization dawns on you, your eyes trail from him in efforts to fight off the blush creeping up. He noticed the lack of honorific on Kuroo’s name. You don’t have much time to linger on the matter before Hinata begins to ask how you befriended the wild-eyed redhead. The four of you begin to stroll through the mall, you and Hinata walking side by side while Kageyama and Ushijima followed behind, both listening in on your tale, even if Ushijima already knew it. 

_You had noticed Tendo around your school, always alone and seemingly disinterested in everyone and everything around. You didn’t know he had been outcasted by your classmates and even the upperclassmen, no one dared to know him, everyone whispered about the boy. You were shy, and while you had some friends, you never bothered to venture farther out than the clique you were accustomed to. Never one to listen to rumors or gossip, you were left ignorant to Tendo’s plight, until you were in gym class one day. He never caught your attention before, always lurking on the sidelines despite his apparent eagerness to join. Today would be spent playing volleyball, and everyone was scrambling to be on your team. In between trying to talk to the people you wanted to play with for the day while politely declining offers to join another team, you heard a few boys laughing. When you looked over, a red bowl-cut was being used to hide the heartbreak in his eyes._

_“You can’t join a human team, monster!” One of the boys laughed, turning his back to Tendo to go back to forming a team._

_“Stupid lizard boy,” the other cackled. Their torment stopped the moment you paced over to them, hope and excitement dancing across their faces. How lucky were they? Having (Surname) (Name) approach them to be on her team. But you breezed right past them, going straight to the object of their pettiness._

_“You can join my team!” You told him, offering a friendly smile to convey your genuine interest in playing with him. He still seemed unconvinced, but his mood seemed to lighten just the slightest as he muttered out a, “really?”_

_“Yeah! You know, lizards are one of my favorite animals.” The way you used the other boys’ insult as a way to compliment him didn’t go unnoticed, and for the first time, you received an authentic smile from the bright ginger. Following that day in the gym, the two of you were inseparable._

Following your story of how you met your best friend, you continued to idly chat with the two first-years. To no surprise, Ushijima remained mostly quiet, offering a line here and there. Honestly, it seemed like he was just trying to show he was paying attention. The entire day was comfortable, moods sky-high. 

Until a visitor decided to make himself known. 

You were just heading for the food court, everyone having decided it was time to get something to eat, when Ushijima spoke up, making the remaining three of you freeze. 

“You should have gone to Shiratorizawa.” Unbeknownst to you about the figure that approached from the side, you assumed he was talking to you.

“Will you stop saying that?” You and another voice cry, the other far more exasperated than yours. Your head snaps in their direction and your met with glittering hues of hazelnut. Oikawa smirks, apparently pleased with the idea you two have something in common; being subtly reprimanded by the Ace. 

“Manager-chan! What a pleasant surprise!” He trots closer and you can feel the air stiffen along with Kageyama’s rigid form. He says nothing to the brunette, but he does nothing to hide how tight his jaw is clenched. Oikawa ignores his two rivals altogether, setting his focus squarely on you. “I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to lay eyes on your beautiful face so soon!” 

“Hello, Oikawa-san,” your voice is light, no traces of exuberance or distaste to be found. Neutral, indifferent. You had no reason to dislike Oikawa, but you wouldn’t call him a friend, either. Even the term acquaintance seemed to be pushing it. 

“Aw, come on, little cutie,” he saunters closer, stopping a few inches away from you, much closer to your personal space than Ushijima is willing to allow. “Don’t tell me you aren’t happy to see me.” 

“I don’t feel any way about seeing you,” you answer with a bluntness that matches Ushijima. The parallel to the behavior doesn’t go over Oikawa’s head, but he favors ignoring it. 

“I’m hurt, (Name)-chan! I really thought we were in the process of making something special.” 

“Oikawa-san, I hardly know you.” His panty-dropping smile blooms across his rose-tinted lips, taking another step into your space. 

“We can change that.” Your head cocks to the side, like a dog being told a command for the first time. You’re not oblivious enough to skip over the meaning of his words, but before you can politely put him down, Ushijima is beside you. A large hand rests against your lower back as he stares down at Oikawa. 

“She’s not interested,” he tells him with a flat voice, though there’s a clipped coldness braiding into the words. Oikawa stands frozen like a statue, baffled by his rival’s sudden possessiveness, even if it comes across subtle to by passers. Without wasting another minute, Ushijima applies a bit of pressure to where his hand lingers over you, guiding you to begin walking. He follows right behind, moving his hand to wrap around and grip at your waist. Kageyama and Hinata follow close behind, Hinata clearly confused by the entire situation where as Kageyama silently curses Oikawa as he passes by the brunette. 

When the four of you breech the entrance to the food court, normalcy washes over the group. The previous tension from Oikawa’s flirting attempt swept away by rumbling stomachs. Lunch is comprised of various foods from multiple stands, a chorus of laughs, and a few minutes of brushing legs and hands with Ushijima under the table. It’s all such a welcomed pace from your normal routine that you almost forget about the darkness that consumes your soul. The demons that scratch and claw at your brain, the fear of rejection and disappointment that forces you to keep your heart locked away in an ice box. But a simple text is enough to bring you back to reality. 

**_Terushima_ **

_Party tonight. Hope to see you around._


	4. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with the quickness on this one!   
> Notes; if you don't already know what Endometriosis is, you will learn in this fic! (Or, ya know, Google is useful too). I've been living with it since I was 13/14.   
> The two teas mentioned are from a shop near me that I absolutely adore (Chatime). Highly advise looking to see if there is one near you. All the teas and smoothies you could want.

You lied to Kuroo, telling him your train wouldn’t arrive until at least 10:30pm, and that Yuki had already planned to get you. To say deceiving him didn’t eat you up inside would just be another treachery on your behalf. He was one of your closest friends, you knew he just wanted to see you and ensure your safety on your trek home. In truth, you were urging to see him, too. But there was a tornado in your mind, a storm so dark and malevolent that you refused to risk letting it suck up anyone else. As enjoyable as your time was with Ushijima, all it did was make everything more difficult. The want to be with him was stronger than ever, but you knew you couldn’t do it. Despite the fact he seemed to have the personality of a brick, he was sweet, caring, and one of the most genuine people you ever had the pleasure of meeting. Being with you would only ruin him, and not in a sexually satisfying way. 

Maybe it was too much alcohol, maybe it wasn’t enough. But even pretending the man pounding into you was the bronze god of Shiratorizawa did nothing for you. Every moan was fake and Terushima wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice. Fortunately for him, getting you off was never a focus. He’d much rather chase after his own nut, which was quickly starting to build up. Without warning, he pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back before plunging right back in. You stare up at him with boredom and dissatisfaction written across your face, watching as he focuses on the way your breasts bounce to his thrusts. He pulls out with reluctance, deciding to finish on your stomach rather than inside. Part of you is grateful, but you still cringe at the feeling of the thick, sticky substance landing on your skin. Not to mention the skin-crawling feeling of the discarded condom against your hip bone.

You’re not sure if it’s off putting just because you got no enjoyment from the drunken fuck, or if you’re simply disgusted with yourself over your lackluster decisions following a heavenly weekend. “What? Didn’t drink enough?” Terushima practically sneers down at you, his almond eyes narrowed into slits. You shake your head from side the side, the room spinning, and vision blurred. Drinking enough was certainly not the issue. “Giving me the silent treatment, huh?” He chuckles before dismounting the bed, beginning to re-dress himself. “Who pissed on your parade?” Was Terushima the reason you felt so empty? No, not really. It was your own doing, the nagging thoughts that seemed to linger around in your inebriated state. The torrent that usually vanished once the stinging liquid settled in your veins. You opt to ignore his rhetoric, stumbling from the mattress to stand, grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table to clear yourself of his emission. 

Admittedly, the experience is worrying you more than you’d like to admit. You had met with Terushima at, at least, six different parties since your first hookup. Not once had he been short of making you orgasm at least twice during each session together. Trying to save some face, you brush it off with a shrug, chalking it up to a fluke due to intoxication and lack of interest. At least, until you’re away from him. Once regaining some sense of direction following your drunken hookup, which left you feeling even emptier than you did before arriving at the party, you went on the hunt for Yuki. Finding him was simple, the mass of pink tresses sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of people flooding the kitchen. He was tucked up into a corner of the counter, directly beside the sink, nose deep in his phone. Even with liquid courage pumping through the crimson of your blood, you didn’t like the knitted expression he wore. 

“We need to go home,” you tell him monotonously, face as blank as your statement. 

“Yeah, we do. I was just about to come look for you.” He still hasn’t looked up from his phone, his fingers now typing furiously. You can see the light from your own device go off in his pocket, and your brows raise in suspicion. When the chime of a message being sent rings out, he locks the screen and finally makes eye contact with you. Your blood turns to ice before he even speaks a word of the impending trouble. “Kuroo knows you lied. I’ve been texting Bokuto since you vanished with Doucheshima. They’re at the apartment.” Trouble quicks ebbs way to fucking doomsday. A gallon of water and all the food you could ask for wouldn’t be enough to sober you up right now. 

“B-both of them?” Everything moves in slow motion, spinning around you in taunting tendrils of a brewing apocalypse. Yuki starts talking again, his own anxiety beginning to surface at the idea of a fuming Kuroo awaiting the two of you. Of Bokuto being the one with him, most likely failing at any attempt to calm the ravenette. But all you can hear is his previous comment on a loop, “Kuroo knows you lied.” 

Kuroo knows you lied to him. 

You lied to Kuroo. Plenty of times, to be fair, but he never found out. And guilt eats away at you the same way lead does paint, and suddenly you wonder if the lack of pleasure earlier was the gods punishing you for deceiving your friend. The two of you had built a foundation on trust and communication, never being afraid to talk to the other about anything that troubled you. But now he knows you lied. He knows you avoided him. He probably even knows that it hasn’t been you texting him for the past two hours. You haven’t even had to face him, but you can feel the world crashing down around you. 

The crash finally ends in a crescendo of emotion that had been chipping away at your walls. The levee breaks the second you clip yourself into Yuki’s passenger seat. A scream of agony tears through your throat, making the male beside you recoil in about terror and heartbreak. Hot tears roll down your cheeks in never-ending streams, and even when your hands cover your face in futile attempt to hide your shame, he can still see the fat droplets drip into your lap. 

By the time you arrive at your apartment, you’ve managed to calm down. Your self-preservation took over and you remind yourself that you’ve lied for this long, you’ve kept this secret for almost a year. Kuroo may be the scheming captain, but you’re every bit as cunning. Your quick wit has kept you from being found out this long, and you’ll be damned if you let it all go to shit now. When you and Yuki step into your third-floor apartment, you find Bokuto sitting on the couch, a more than necessary distance between him and the fuming feline-like male. Bokuto launches out of his seat like a cannon, his hand wrapping around Yuki’s wrist before dragging him out of the living quarters completely. When the door shuts behind them, Kuroo finally shifts his heated glare from the floor to you. 

Your astonished there isn’t a hole burned through the ground. 

“You lied to me,” he growls out lowly, the betrayal more than evident in his tone. Had this been anyone else, you wouldn’t have given a single shit; you’d have blown it off and told them they were overreacting. But you knew why honesty was so important to Kuroo, and exactly why breaking his trust was so devastating to him. He had told you, when the two of you first started to get close, that he had been used by plenty of people in his life. All lying to him about their intentions; girls only wanting to be with him because he was attractive and rumored to be packing. Guys wanted to be his friends for the clout and to get girls just as easily as the golden-eyed male could. People took advantage of him, his kindness and forgiveness, and constantly lied to him to save themselves. You were different, but you couldn’t exactly explain that. Not the full reasoning, at least. So, you did something that felt less dirty than outright lying to him, but still left a cringing tingle on your tongue. 

“I did.” He can tell from your slowed speech that something is off. He focuses on you, rising from his seat on your couch to inspect you. Your pupils are still dilated, cheeks flushed, and there’s a minute sway to your stance. 

“You’re drunk,” he notes, stating it rather than asking.

But you answer with a simple, “I am.” There’s a long pause before you finally sigh and give-in. “I didn’t want to tell you I was going to a party.” Finally, you break your intensive contact from him, opting to look off to the side instead. “I didn’t want you to judge me.” 

“What?” There’s a tinge of distress in his voice, as if hearing you say you thought he’d judge you scarred him. “(Name), I wouldn’t judge you for that. I go to parties too, you know.” You nod, the motions slow and calculating. It seems more like you’re trying to gather the courage to tell him more, rather than just pretending to do exactly that. Since you’re not entirely lying, he can’t call your bluff, something you contemplated heavily on the drive home. 

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you. I knew if I told you, you’d want to come along to make sure I was safe.” Another half-truth. It was why you had never told him the time of your train when he first asked, you always felt guilty over the way he’d go so far out of his way just to ensure your safety. “Yuki was going with me, so I knew I’d be okay.” Glancing up at him, lower lip jutting out the slightest, “I didn’t want you to see me drunk.” A full truth. You’d give anything for him to never see you blasted, especially at a party. Kuroo sighs, every bit of tension escaping his body with the exhale. In a few struts he’s in front of you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you in for a hug. 

He wasn’t just upset you lied to him; he was scared shitless over what happened to you. When he arrived at the train station to see you back home, he fully expected to find Yuki already there waiting. When 10:20pm rolled around and the Fukurodani boy was still nowhere in sight, a nervousness overwhelmed him. Had something happened to him? Yuki was never one to be late, always arriving fifteen to thirty minutes early to any event. It was no matter, even if Yuki had fallen asleep while waiting for you, Kuroo was here and would make sure you got home soundly. 10:45pm hit and he was pacing. The train was fifteen minutes late, Yuki still hadn’t arrived, and there was an uneasiness clawing in his gut. He tried to call you, but there was no answer. Kuroo waited until 11pm struck before he took off, calling you three times in a row before panic calling Bokuto, begging him to get ahold of Yuki while he continued to try you. His uncertainty only raised when you suddenly texted him, apologizing for not answering because you were walking home from the station while telling Yuki about your weekend. 

“I’ll go out with you next time,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, relishing in the way your hands rest against his lower abdomen. 

“It wasn’t my scene,” you whisper, and when you don’t feel his nose crinkle, his tell-tale sign he doesn’t trust what you said, you smile. You pull away from him, flashing him a sympathetic grin, “and you need to get home. It’s 12:30 and we have class.” Kuroo agrees, but not before forcing you into your room, helping you get ready for bed, and making you drink two bottles of water. He won’t leave without making sure you’re comfortable and safe from waking up to a gruesome hangover. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

In the morning, you still feel dirty. The shower you took earlier only powerful enough to clean your skin, not nearly enough to rid you of the scorching guilt settled deep in your chest. You barely slept, tossing and turning all night, thinking about how much you’d upset Kuroo. Not just from lying to him, but from making him think something may have happened to you. Even though your half-lies managed to save you in the end, it did nothing to cease the overbearing sense of betrayal you felt. In effort to smooth things over, even if he already forgave you, you made him breakfast and lunch. Yuki caught you before he left to catch his train to school, lifting a brow as you crammed three bento boxes into your bag. “Peace offering,” you told him near silently, the sadness in your tone evident. He knew you’d beat yourself up over last night for weeks to come, and in truth, he hoped it was a wake-up call for you to start changing behaviors. 

It makes it seem like Yuki enables you to go out and party, and some nights he does; nights he knows it won’t be a huge rager, so you won’t feel as inclined to go wild. Majority of the time he only goes with you to make sure you get home safe; you don’t die of alcohol poisoning, or puke when you’re passed out, or worse. You know he hates it when you ask him to go out with you, but you know he’ll never refuse to go, either. Having that safety net is all you need, because drunk you couldn’t give a fuck less about what happens to you. He responds silently, a pained smile gracing you for a split second. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to say Kuroo forgave you, because really, he couldn’t; you still didn’t tell him the truth. So, he settles for asking you how your time with Terushima was. Neither of you actually like the boy, that much clear by the way your nostrils flare and eye reactively twitches whenever he asks. Yet you still usually answer with a grin, claiming that at least he knows how to please a woman. This time, however, you grunt with a shrug. You still don’t know what to think of it; the entire ordeal left you feeling cold and empty, more so than usual. Nothing ignited even the faintest of sparks in you, completely unresponsive to his touch. You wonder how you were even wet enough for him to slide into you without making you scream in agony, because you weren’t turned on in the least. 

The lackluster response strikes a nerve in Yuki that makes him go rigid, questioning if your mental state is worsening. It may be if your assumptions about that night are correct. Your doctor warned you about it, nearly promised it wasn’t an “if” but a “when” for you. Endometriosis had ruined a lot for you, but in truth, you never expect it to completely take away your ability to lose pleasure. Yeah, the specialist said otherwise, but you’d still been relatively lucky. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself in order to ignore the alarming amount of issues the disease actually caused. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, either. It could have just been a bad night, even with the alcohol, there was a lot clouding your mind. 

Yeah. It was definitely that. 

You’d still try to figure it out on your own later. After practice. It was Monday, which meant Yuki would be going out to grab dinner with Bokuto and Akaashi following their practice. The pinkette wasn’t part of the team, but he frequently watched their practice to support his friends. It also didn’t help that he had the biggest boner for the owl Captain. You had told him he had a better chance snagging Akaashi, to which he snorted with a grumbled, “that boy is so deep in the closet, I doubt he knows how to come out.” You sighed to yourself at the though. _“Ah, volleyball boys.”_

_“_ Kuroo! Kenma-kun!” You jogged slightly to catch up to them, one arm reached behind you to keep your bag from bouncing around too much. They both paused, waiting for you to catch up. Kenma passed you a fleeting glance, just long enough to acknowledge he knew you were there, before returning to the game at hand. Kuroo, on the other hand, quickly deflated at the sight of you. Your heart clenched, thinking he wasn’t over the events of last night. “You promised to bring me break -“ his whine ended as soon as you shifted your bag to your side, quickly unzipping it and pulling out a medium sized bento. His hazel orbs glittered with appreciation and undeniable hunger, snatching the box from you before thanking you. You pulled out the largest bento, placing the second in his hands. 

“I also made you lunch,” you looked away from him, voice lowering, “for last night.” He chuckled, placing the breakfast filled box on top of the other before swooping down and placing a kiss at your cheek. Kuroo didn’t bother to pull away, moving his lips to speak right against where the hitch of your jaw fades into your ear, “you’re the best, _chibi-chan_. ~” Kenma’s baby grin went unnoticed by the two of you, Kuroo too busy watching your face burst into crimson while you tried to focus of remembering how to breathe. Just like Tendo and the Shiratorizawa boys could see the potential between you and their captain, Kenma and the boys of Nekoma could see the undeniable thread between you and their own captain. Kenma wouldn’t push the two of you together, though. He’d much rather stay uninvolved and just see how it unfolded naturally. Besides, he had Yaku and Lev for that. Match Maker was not a game Kenma was interested in, no matter how much he wanted to see his two friends end up happy and together. 

As the three of you walk to school, an idea you had over the weekend springs to the front of your mind. “Kuroo,” he glances down at you, walking perfectly in line beside you, occasionally brushing against you. He’s safely managed to stop himself from grabbing your smaller hand in his, but his resolve is disintegrating. “If we hadn’t qualified for nationals, what would you be doing?” The question rattles his psyche, shatters the reality around him. He’d never thought about it, never even considered it. You never gave him the chance to believe they’d never make it, and he was far too confident in his team to think losing was an option they had. 

“I -“ his voice catches, brain still racking to fathom an answer. 

“He’d be a mess,” Kenma answers for him with a matter-of-factness that hides the minuscule, teasing smile that briefly forms across his lips. You only nod, taking the younger boys answer as truth. 

Kuroo clears his throat quietly, recovering from his jumbled thoughts, “what makes you ask?” 

“I’ve just been thinking about all the teams who finished their years. They aren’t going to nationals.” Defeated faces from the matches you watch flash through your mind. Tendo saying goodbye to his paradise. Oikawa launching himself into a pile of metal chairs to still lose. The tears shed over the multiple courts. “The third years, this is it for a lot of them. There’s no more volleyball after this.” Kuroo wants to tell you that all of them knew that from the start, but your original question echoes in his mind, and his stomach knots. He can’t imagine being one of the teams that didn’t make it, that somehow never made it. “I want everyone to have a chance to play again. Just one more time.” The resolve in your voice reaches deeper than just your want for the boys to enjoy their passion once more. You want the fairytale ending they all envisioned; victorious, wrapped in a team huddle, streaks of elation spilling over their cheeks. To see the passion burn in their eyes when the ball hits exactly where they want, when their blocks stop the strongest of serves, when the team moves as one and there’s no question of ‘did I make the right call?’ “I want to see the juniors excel,” you finally add. “The third years this year, from every team, have been monsters. I don’t think the rest will do as well without some more guidance. And a lot of clubs have lost their seniors now.” 

“What do you have planned, (Name)-chan?” Kenma asks from the front of your trio, genuinely curious. It’s not uncommon for you to feel so much commitment to the sport, but it’s a spectacle to see you become emotional over it. You just hum with a smile, turning your chin up and allowing the sun to beat directly against your face. 

“I guess we’ll see, if I’m able to pull it off.” 

**~*~*~*~*~**

The rest of the school day goes as normal, you and Kuroo passing childish faces to each other whenever the teacher turns their back to the board. In between classes you’re rapidly texting, darting out to take quick calls. The entirety of lunch you’re missing, nowhere to be found. Kuroo even sent Yamamoto to hunt you down, to no avail. He catches you in the few minutes left before your return to your last few classes, and you’re absolutely glowing. Warmth and light radiate off you more intensely than the sun itself, and Kuroo is caught in your rays. The smile you wear is illuminating, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. What happened to make you so excited? Before he can even approach you, you’re pulling out your phone and answering another call.

“‘Toshi-kun!” Kuroo groans to himself, using every bit of willpower not to slam his head into the nearest wall. Of course, Ushijima is calling you. His thoughts begin to trickle into the idea that your resounding joy may be from the Miyagi boy, forcing his lip to curl in distain. He shoves his suffocating jealousy down, not wanting to strangle out your happiness, and casually eavesdrops on the conversation. He’s already missed a bit of it, too wrapped up in his irritation to have properly paid attention. “That’s great!” “Yeah! I’m waiting to hear back from one more place and then I can make the announcement!” You pause, blushing before coyly twirling a piece of your hair around your finger. “T-thank you, ‘Toshi-kun.” The warning bell rings, and you squeak, quickening your pace towards the classroom. “I’ll talk to you later! Bye!” As you slide you phone back in your bag with one hand, the other grabs Kuroo’s, dragging him along with you to class. Both of you make it in on time. The dark-haired male grins when all eyes befall the two of you, locking into your conjoined grip. But his smugness falls as soon as you release him, apologizing for the sudden contact, and making your way to your seat. For a split second, he forgot you weren’t his. He spends the rest of the afternoon pondering what you and Ushijima could have been discussing, and just what exactly made you look so radiant following lunch. A text message through the middle of the final class pulls him from his non-stop consideration; the multiple scenarios running through his mind. 

**_Chibi-chan_ **

_Pay attention, space brain._

You watch practice with rapt attention, even with your phone clutched in a death grip. Your focus on the impending call dropping as you watch your team practice, somehow always managing to meet stares with Kuroo. Every time he blocks a hit, he passes you a lazy grin which just makes you smile and shake your head. When Kuroo finally calls for the team to take a break, you rush to gather the empty water bottles, taking them to refill. You’re on autopilot as you run the bottles under the faucet, your brain far too preoccupied with your plan. Was it going to work? Would the boys enjoy it? All the work and trouble you’d gone through, would it be worth it? The answer to every question was a whopping yes. 

You’d come up with the idea while talking to the Shiratorizawa third years and ran it by Washijo when you returned home. That night at dinner, before you returned to Tokyo, the two of you hashed out the details. He immediately contacted all the coaches and schools involved, making them all to swear to secrecy on the idea until everyone confirmed. It was a surprise for the players; the largest training camp ever held. A spectacle to behold and one hell of a task for you. But you did it, and now you were just waiting to hear from the final school. You had told Ushijima, only because he was easier to contact and get ahold of than your grandfather. The risk of Ushijima spilling the beans were slim to none, too dense to get overly excited about a training camp and let his emotions spill. Plus, you’d asked him to keep it under wraps, which meant he wouldn’t even breathe a word unless getting information from his coach. 

You finish filling the last bottle, snapping it shut before turning to load them all back into the little cart you wheeled them out on. They weren’t heavy, but your arms weren’t long enough to hope to carry every bottle at once. The bottle clatters against the metal cart the same time your back pressed up against the brick wall of the gym, trapped in between the sturdy arms and broad chest of, no other than, the demon captain himself. Kuroo smirks down at you, his drooping bangs and messy hair casting an almost ominous shadow over his face. His eyes tell a different story, glowing with the intent to tease and torment. The special kind he reserves just for you. “ _Chibi-chan_ , ~” he purrs into your ear with a devious grin curling his lips, “I don’t think I like how close you’re getting to those Shiratorizawa boys.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Kuroo?” Your voice is smooth and low, thinking nothing more of this than his usual teasing. It used to make you melt, your entire face burning as your heart hammered against your chest, but you’ve grown used to it. Even if he still manages to catch you off guard. 

“I know about yesterday,” his right-hand creeps down, slipping off the wall to brush his fingers from the top of your ribs down to your waist, “when Oikawa approached you. I heard how Ushijima slipped his hand around you.” 

“Oh, that?” You giggle, waving a hand slightly in front of your chest, “that was nothing. He’s just protective over me, probably because I’m related to his coach. We’re just friends.” Kuroo hums in response, his eyes lidded as he brushes past your assumption. Maybe just friends wasn’t entirely true, but at the same time, it felt like the only word that made sense. 

“But he wants to be more than that,” the ravenette leans forward, his lips grazing against your ear, “and I think you do, too.” When he pulls away, his satisfaction with his teasing drops, noticing the way you stare at him with brows knitted incredulously. It clicks for him, in that moment of your udder disbelief, that you truly have no idea how many people admire you. And it’s true; you don’t. Even after the two of you kissed, with his fingers knuckle deep inside you, you still didn’t see how much the man liked you. If anything, you’d chalked it up to a moment of sexual tension reaching boiling point. You never considered Ushijima to have romantic feelings towards you, even with the persistence from Tendo and the others to tell you otherwise. The sexual attraction was abundantly clear, as was the love, but you were too blinded by your own insecurities to notice anything past the heated stares. Kuroo opens his mouth, ready to tell you how much you matter to the team, to your friends, to him. Ready to spill all the reasons he loves you, the endless list of things you do that make his heart flutter. But he doesn’t get to, stopped by the sound of your phone going off. You jump, quickly pushing away from him and scampering away, out of earshot, to answer. His head drops, a sigh rolling off his tongue as he decides to head back into the gym, rolling your cart of freshly filled water bottles with him. 

It takes fifteen minutes for you to return, and when you do, you have that same soul-stealing smile from earlier. Kuroo looks to coach Nekomata, expecting him to berate you for unexpectedly running off for such a long time. When he looks to the elder coach, he sees a similar look of excitement and pride. A wicked grin cracks across his face, realization hitting him. If Kuroo was the scheming, demon captain, you were undoubtably the scheming, demon manager. You could push the team just as hard as the captain, not afraid to get involved and _show_ them exactly what they were doing wrong. You could wrangle a group of rowdy, teenaged boys with the same practiced eased a season ranger wrangles cattle. When you come to stand beside the coach, he blows a whistle, capturing everyone’s attention. 

“(Surname) has something she’d like to talk with you all about.” Without needing further instruction, they huddle in front of you, watching as Nekomata steps back. 

“As you all know, I’m close with quite a few other volleyball clubs. A lot of them were not as lucky as us, their season is over, and many members won’t have the luxury to play again next season.” You pause for a moment to calm your excited breaths. “I’ve organized a training camp! It’s only three days, but,” another pause, this one for dramatic effect, “it’ll be the biggest we’ve ever participated in!” You watch as every face lights up in almost feral excitement, their eagerness growing as you list off all the clubs involved. “Karasuno, Fukurodani, Ubugawa, Shinzen, Shiratorizawa, Aoba Johsai, Johzenji, Nohebi,” Kuroo audibly groans, earning a few snickers from the boys and you, “and of course, Nekoma. Due to the sheer number of players, it will be held at Shiratorizawa. They have larger and more gyms than any of the other schools.” You decide to leave out the biggest surprise; Washijo had contacted a few of the most skilled colleges Shiratorizawa has had practice matches against to come out and train with the younger players. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“So, is that why you were so giddy earlier?” Kuroo asks as he comes up from behind, meeting you at the front gates of the school. The two of you had decided to grab something small to eat after practice, wanting a little time together. You still needed to set a day for the two of you to actually go out together, but that could wait until tomorrow to try to plan out. “It was,” you answer with a smile so genuine it makes a blush dance across even Kenma’s face. He had decided to wait with you while Kuroo finished showering and changing, deciding to use the alone time to ask a few of his own questions regarding the camp. Kenma’s reaction only serves to remind Kuroo of how painstakingly beautiful you are, how magnetic you are, and how you don’t even realize it. Even with the amount of confessions you’ve received, from those who admired you from a distance, to friends who were no safer from your natural charm. But you refrained from ever acknowledging your own grace, love confessions from men and women alike doing nothing to make you see your worth. It was mind boggling to Kuroo, how you could be so indifferent to the pull you had over those around you. “I just didn’t want to say anything until it was all confirmed!” The three of you walk together for about ten minutes, idly chatting with you occasionally peeking over to watch how Kenma is progressing in his game. Your kohai silently waves goodbye as he turns in the opposite direction of you and Kuroo, heading towards his house and the two of you head towards a little shop to grab some onigiri and steam buns. 

Kuroo chuckles as you scramble to order a mango green tea and peach qq. Your obsession with tea never ceases to amaze him; he’s sure you could live on tea and water without any complaints. You both purchase your food and find a little table in the corner to sit at while you eat. “Nohebi, huh?” You chuckle lightly before taking a sip of one of the fruity teas you ordered. 

“I figured the more players we had, the better. Have faith in me, Kuroo. I have a plan.” 

“I have more than enough faith in you, (Name).” The innocent conviction he says it with makes your throat restrict, a barely noticeable blush forming. His softness quickly melting away as his brows furrow at you, “and we’ll be staying at Shiratorizawa?” His quick shift in mood almost makes you cackle, far too amused with how pouty he’s being over a training camp. 

“Come on, Kuroo. You can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit curious to if we can beat them. After all, Karasuno managed it.” His eyes roll to the top of his head, staring off at the dark sky out the window as he thinks about it. Not long after, he hums, nodding slightly to confirm his curiosity. You smirk, the two of you eating in comfortable silence until you finish. It takes you longer to eat than Kuroo, who scarfs his dinner down like a vacuum. He chuckles as you swallow the last bite of your rice ball, making you tilt your head at him. “What?” He doesn’t answer with words, instead standing from his seat and coming over to you. Kuroo leans in as he wipes a stray piece of rice from the corner of your mouth. You fully expect him to pull away, but he’s frozen in place, the pad of his thumb idly resting against the edge of your lips. You watch him curiously, almost expectantly; the way his calculating focus is locked into your plush, pink flesh. You expect him to lean down and kiss you, but what he does instead makes your body heat up all the same. His thumb swipes across your lower lip, assessing the fullness of your lip and the soft texture, wondering what they would feel like pressed against his own. Making no move to stop him, you just watch until his honey stare finally meets your own. “Kuroo?” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a hushed rasp that makes your stomach drop. Words fail you, staring up at him dumbly, all air snatched from your lungs. You want to tell him to kiss you, but for some reason it feels wrong. Not because you aren’t attracted to him. Not because of what happened with Ushijima. But because a flash from last night makes your brain black out, and your left with the panicked emptiness you felt while trying to reach your peak with Terushima. 

_“You’re broken,”_ your brain reminds you bitterly. “We should probably get going.” Kuroo immediately straightens, pulling away from you before nodding in agreement. The silence that encapsulates you while walking home isn’t the same comfortable one you felt in the shop. It’s awkward and there’s an unspoken tension that neither of you are willing to confront. He walks you to your apartment building, his house only a ten-minute walk in the opposite direction. There’s still no move from either of you to speak a word, and so you stare at each other until the only thing you can hear is the blood coursing through your veins. He leans in and, _“this is it,”_ you think to yourself, closing your eyes in preparation. But the striking softness of his lips meets your forehead before he whispers a gentle goodnight and vanishes in the direction of his own home. 

Why did that feel like rejection? 

You’ve never been more grateful for Bokuto and Akaashi, entertaining enough to be around for Yuki still not to be home. Your sprawled out on your bed, a powerful buzz rubbing in circles against your clit as your fingers pump in and out of your slick walls. They’re not as thick as Ushijima’s, but they seem to be getting the job done, and that’s all that matters to you right now. Your legs tense, trained muscles pulling taunt as you flex; the coil in your stomach drawn tight and ready to snap. With a few more swirls of the body wand around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and a few well places scrapes against the spongy flesh inside you, you come undone. You call out as your orgasm washes over you, Kuroo’s name falling from your lips like a plea for mercy. Once the spasms stop and the blissful after glow ends, you tense up once more, eyes blown wide in horror. Why did you call out for Kuroo? At first it doesn’t make sense, because you hadn’t been - _oh. Yes, you had been._

You had been picturing him lurking over you with that devious smirk, your body pressed in between the outside of the gym and his muscled front. The way his hand had trailed from just below your breast and down over the sensitive curves of your side. How he looked down at you like a beast ready to devour its prey. 

Envisioning it once more only encourages your mind to take it further, picturing the things you wish he’d do to you. Just like that, your vibrator is back on and your fingers are thrusting in and out once more. 

Luckily, you were just too mentally worked up to cum the other night. And nothing has been more relieving to discover. You weren’t scot-free, sex could still be incredibly painful in the beginning. But you were too ecstatic to discover you hadn’t lost the ability to orgasm to care at the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking I may add a few of the confessions (Name)-chan recieved into the next chapter or so. They're actually confessions my own friends bestowed upon me that still linger around in my mind. (Most likely because they caught me off guard to a point my heart went bloop).


	5. Camp (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so wanted to get this out on the 13th for our beloved Ace's birthday, but to no such luck! Same with getting it out on the 14th.   
> Sigh.   
> The editing process took longer than I expected.   
> BUT! There are 2 limes(??) in here! Hoorah!

The camp is scheduled for that weekend, giving you a solid total of three days to finalize your tall orders. Due to homework, management obligations to Nekoma, and planning for the training camp, you never get to meet up with Kuroo to properly spend time together. Of course, he doesn’t take any offense to it, and settles for FaceTiming you while you both work on homework. He tries to ask you about the training camp, but you refuse to give him any details, repeatedly telling him, “it’s a secret.” 

Friday morning, you’re the first person waiting outside the gym, arriving even before Coach Nekomata. Despite having to wake up at 3:30am to get ready to be at the school by 5, you’re wide awake and full of energy. With a duffle-bag tossed over your shoulder, headphones in with music all the way up, you bounce on the balls of your feet and wait for someone else to arrive. 

**_Ushi_ **

_Are you excited?_

_( **Name** ) _

_I am!_

_I can’t wait to see you!_

You hit send on the second message before you can think better of it, only to face palm immediately after. Before you can even have a moment to regret your decision, he responds with a simple text that makes your heart speed up and cheeks puff. 

**_Ushi_ **

_I miss you._

“It’s too early to be that happy,” Yaku yawns as he walks up, his voice registering in the one ear you kept free from your earbud. 

“I can’t help it,” you chirp with a lighthearted shrug. “I’ve been looking forward to this!” You look down at your phone as it goes off again, Yaku’s going off at almost the exact same time. 

“Who the hell - _of course_.” You giggle as he begins to respond. It was a message from Lev to the Nekoma group chat, saying he woke up late, but he’d be to the bus on time. 

**_Yaku_ **

_If you’re not here by 4:50, we’re leaving without you._

“You read this shit,” Kuroo hisses as he walks up, Kenma in tow. He’s shaking his phone as he approaches you and Yaku, clearly referring to the message their underling sent. 

**_Demonger_ **

_It’s okay Lev._

_But seriously. If you aren’t here by 4:50, I’ll make you think Yaku and Kuroo are fucking saints._

Lev showed up at 4:30, panting, sweating, and beyond exhausted. The second he got into place on the bus, he crashed. You sat with Kuroo, claiming the window seat with certainty you’d watch the bustling city turn into the countryside. You managed to stay awake for almost an hour before your lids dropped on their own volition and your head rested against Kuroo’s shoulder. He smirked down at your sleeping form before gently laying his head over yours and falling asleep. 

You awoke to Coach Washijo calling for the team to wake up, Nekomata snickering into his hand as a few jolted awake. “What, didn’t get enough beauty sleep?” The rival coach teases as you walk past him to exit the bus. 

“You hush,” you quietly hiss at him, watching as his all-knowing eyes drift to Kuroo’s back, who exited right before you. You guide Nekoma to Gym 2 with a pace so full of determination a few of the boys’ question if they should be jogging to keep up. But when you burst through the doors of the gym with burning excitement spilling into your expression, you’re distraught to find it empty. “Where -“

“The boys are getting living quarters prepared for the other clubs. Once they’re done, they’ll join you.” 

“Looking for someone, (Name)-chan?” You know Kai is being genuine when he asks, but the smirk and taunting whistle Yaku fails to withhold only makes you scoff out a small ‘hmph,’ ignoring a real answer. 

“Karasuno arrived about fifteen minutes ago,” Nekomata informs as he lingers at the back of the group, having been distracted briefly by talking with your grandfather. “They went to set their belongings in their room and then they’ll be down.” You and Kuroo share a feral grin at the revelation, fully ready to tease and torment the murder of crows. 

Karasuno takes longer than expected to make their appearance in the gym, giving time for Aoba Johsai, Fukurodani, Shinzen, Nohebi, and then Ubugawa to arrive. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Dadchi! Sugamama!” Daichi chuckles lowly, smiling at the nickname whereas Suga blanches. 

“Why -?” 

“You’re the mom of the group, Suga! And Daichi is clearly the dad. And those,” you point to the younger members of Karasuno, “are your wild pack of brats.” 

“I’m not a brat,” Tsukishima scoffs, and before he can snark out a retort at the expense of the other boys, you beat him to it. 

“You’re right, ‘Shima-kun. You are the salty middle child who’s in his rebellious phase because he’s jealousy of the babies,” you point to Hinata and Kageyama, “getting all the attention.” He blinks at you, seemingly unmoved by your words, before his top lip curls into a mild snarl and he releases a grunt of agitation. 

“I didn’t miss you,” he grumbles under his breathe, only for Yamaguchi to immediately out him with brows knitted in confusion. 

“Tsukki, you just said on the way here you were excited to see (Surname)-san again.” 

“Y-Yamaguchi!” His booming wail makes Kuroo double over in a fit of laughter, his arms wrapping around his core as a stitch forms in his side. 

“Beppin-chan!” 

“Oi,” you turn with mock annoyance to face Tanaka and Nishinoya. Neither are off put by your glowering stare or the way your hands rest firmly against your waist. Just as quickly as your scolding demeanor appears, it’s gone, vanishing behind a flirty smile and giggle. Daichi, Sugar, Bokuto, and Akaashi all watch the scene with pursed lips, entirely caught off guard by your switch. Kuroo has stopped laughing for the moment, but only long enough to witness the next murder about to befall Karasuno. Bokuto looks back at the feline captain to gauge his reaction, but all he finds is a knowing smirk. “I planned something for the two of you!” You can practically feel their stomachs hit the floor as your index finger and thumb grasp the zipper of your sports jacket, slowly, teasingly pulling it down. But their hopes for a lustful view dies as your jacket comes undone, and the pair fall to the floor at the same time as your discarded article of clothing. 

“Beppin-chan is so mean!” Tanaka cries out, unable to tear his eyes from the black t-shirt you wear. You turn to show off your newest purchase to the rest of the crows and every jaw seems to drop. Laughing at their deflation, you put your hands up as symbolic white flags. 

“Don’t take it to heart! I just got it to keep you humble.” It’s a black t-shirt printed with ‘Karasuno’ across the top, right above a volleyball with a crow in the center. Below states ‘Volleyball club’ with the phrase ‘the flightless crows’ right under. 

“If anyone else were to do it, I’d take offense,” Asahi admits with a faint smile and nervous chuckle. The lightness is lost as Nishinoya begins to laugh maniacally from the floor, Tanaka wearing a dubious grin under his dropped head. The libero jumps to his feet, giving Tanaka a helping hand. 

“You fell for our act!” The smaller of the pair claim, both boys ready to discard of the bombers they wore. The two rips their outer layer off in union, revealing dark red t-shirts that match the same design as yours, but with a cat in the center. Where yours says ‘the flightless crows,’ theirs say ‘the demon manager.’ For a moment, the two wonder if they made a mistake in their decision, watching as your scan over the shirt continuously with a blank face. 

“That’s so cool!” You finally exclaim, bounding over to them to get a better look at it. “Where did you get these! _Ohmykamis_! I need one!” The excitement coursing through you halts all at once, like running into a brick wall. “Tanaka-kun, Noya-kun,” you back away, a harsh glare directed at the Nekoma boys. “Who told you?” Yamamoto gives himself up like a bandit caught red-handed, unable to hide the way he flinches at your stare. “Bakamoto! Baka!” 

He whines, throwing an accusatory finger at Lev, “he was in on it, too!” Emerald orbs widen in terror, knowing full well his hellish experience through the camp won’t come from just Kuroo now. Bokuto and Yaku snicker, sliding up beside the Karasuno group. 

“Guess you’ll get to see exactly why she’s called the demon manager,” Yaku has no shame in backing your nickname. You earned it for valid reasons. Your lecture towards the two younger boys dies mid-sentence as a familiar chuckle resounds behind you. 

“What a pleasant surprise, catching you here.” A spider crawls up your spine, every secret you’ve been trying to hide standing right behind you. Spinning on your heels, you find yourself staring down an all too familiar pair of almond eyes. 

“Terushima,” his name scorches your mouth, falling past your lips with an undeniable sense of distain. The animosity between the two of you suffocates the previous lightness out of the gym, everyone inside falling silent. Johzenji was the last group to arrive, aside from Shiratorizawa. Being the hosting school, their volleyball club was off making sure everything was in order for the visiting teams. You couldn’t decide between praying they arrived in the next second or they kept away long enough for the two of you to silently settle your mental dispute. Terushima had no loyalty to you, no reason to keep from talking of the things he’s witness you do. Nothing about him said discreet, either. If anyone where to even making a sexual joke about you in his field of hearing, he’d out your expeditions with him the next second. Outside of drunken moments behind a closed door, neither of you can even fathom the idea of tolerating the other. You can be brash, brutal, and completely uncaring of the feelings of those who mean nothing to you. He’s a cocky son of a bitch with no loyalty to anyone, but himself. You were not a match made in heaven. Even the depths of hell would refuse to deal with the two of you together. Oil and vinegar, fire and gasoline, whatever metaphor you wanted to use for items that refuse to mix; it fit your relationship. And following how the last two of your hookups went, Terushima is even less inclined to try to conceal how little empathy he has for you. 

As if the gods were throwing you a bone, Shiratorizawa strolls into the gym, the entire club determined and ready to learn more about what this weekend has in store for them. 

Of course, not before you get trampled by the excitable group. Tendo scampers over to wrap you in his arms and drag you towards the rest, Semi being the next to embrace you. Mostly, it’s the seniors showering you with warmth as the younger males throw smiles as a greeting. Goshiki waves at you with a small blush, still not as accustomed to being around you as the third and second years. Ushijima makes no immediate move to initiate contact, but when you look up at him with sparkling eyes, he knows exactly what to do. The moment your hands reach up in attempt to wrap around his neck, he’s already reached down, lifting you up by the waist so that you can embrace him. Your lifted high off the ground, making you squeal out, wiggling slightly against him even though you know he’s never drop you. Instead of focusing on your sudden launch from the ground, you bury your face into the crook of his neck and smile against him. “Happy to see you again, ‘Toshi-kun.” 

“I missed you,” he admits with a softer voice than he usually displays in front of others. 

Once more, Bokuto is off to the side, poking and prodding teasingly at Kuroo and his radiating disappointment. Disappointed that you, once again, light up like a wildfire at the sight of the tanned opponent. Oikawa watches with feigned interest, morbid curiosity thrumming through his brain over the exact relationship you share between the two captains. Are you dating one and just friends with the other? Are they both just friends? Oh, even better, what if you’re dating both of them. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Iwaizumi’s sharp voice cuts through the brunette’s thoughts, far too aware of his patterns to ignore his focus. 

“I’m not thinking about anything, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines back with a pout. The ravenette only grunts, not believing the setter in the least. Kageyama stands with his team, a scowl pinned to Oikawa the entire time. He hates how his rival stares at you. Not because he’s jealous or he wants you, but because you’re far too good of a person to let Oikawa get close. 

“Waka-kun, I think you can put (Name) down now,” Tendo snickers, amusement seeping off his words as he watches the two of you, still tightly embraced, with a wild smile. The two of you blush before breaking apart, Ushijima’s reaction far more subtle than your own. Pink nips across your cheeks in an obvious shade, forcing you to grab both of your cheeks between your hands. You will yourself to get it together. Now that all the teams have arrived, it’s time to officially get the details of the camp out into the open. 

The coaches are in a perfect line at the front of the gym, most staring at the back of Washijo while others carefully place warning glares at their players. The boys had been corralled into the center, all sitting comfortably on the floor, looking up at their current speaker, the hosting coach. Managers linger behind them, hawking over their club members with promise to discipline whoever decides to get out of line or not pay attention. You are off to the side, standing in an empty space between the coaches and where the first group of boys sit. They filled into the center based off the order the teams arrived, fortunately putting Terushima as far from Kuroo as possible. His proximity to Ushijima and Tendo doesn’t unsettle you, though. The faux blonde already seems to know they have no interest in him, and any attempted conversation would be shut down faster than he could speak. 

“We,” Washijo motions to the group of coaches, “have all decided that this training camp will be different from the rest. We will not be taking charge of the activities.” Every muscle in your body visibly tenses at the new information. Before he says it, you know where he’s going, and even as an overwhelming sense of pride and honor fills you, trepidation does as well. “We’ve decided the person to run the camp will be the same who planned it to begin with, (Surname) (Name).” When you stand frozen in place, Ukai chuckles before motioning you to come up. Washijo keeps a straight face, but you can see the truth in his dark stare: he’s endlessly proud. You didn’t expect this to happen in the slightest, but you’d planned the entire camp out on your own, anyway. Aside from a few minor details that you could quickly hash out with the other coaches later. 

You replace your grandfather, stepping into the exact same spot he had previously stood in. It feels serene, looking out over the sea of heads locked onto your position. With a settling breath, you begin your speech. It hadn’t been prepared, having not been expected, so you reiterate your entire reason behind the quick work you did to make this camp happen. “There’s nothing that makes me happier than looking at all of you. Not right now, like a bunch of deer in headlights, but when you’re truly on the court. When you’re all in the moment, pouring your heart and soul into the game.” Your focus falls to the first huddle of boys, “Karasuno, rising from the ashes like a Phoenix rather than the wild crows, you are.” Then to the sea of red and black, “my own team, for making it to nationals. And everyone in between. But this isn’t to celebrate those who have come far, actually, I planned this camp for the exact opposite.” When your eyes lock with pools of melted chocolate, you smile, speaking directly to the beautiful dunce. “I did it for you. And the rest exactly like you. Those who gave it everything, and then some, but it just wasn’t enough to conquer the way you dreamed. More importantly, I had my fellow third years in mind. I heard from more than a few how distraught you were to end your season. For a lot of you, this is the end. The absolute end. Following the tournaments, there were no more games, no more competitions, no more chances to play.” Oikawa can feel his chest tighten, his hands balling against the tops of his legs. What did he do to make you think of him? What about him inspired you to go through all this? “The truth was heartbreaking because the end always is. So, I wanted to give you one more chance. One more time to play, one more time to settle rivalries, one more time to display every ounce of skill and power you all hold. The end doesn’t have to be bitter; we can make it sweet.” You let out a small laugh, recovering from your intense opening. The sound of your voice, ringing like a bell in the night, pulls the players from the emotional spell you had cast over them. Losing the third years hurt the remaining players just as much as it killed those who wouldn’t be returning. “As much as this camp is a chance for the third years to have more time to shine, it’s just as equally important to those of you who will be sticking around for another year or more. You deserve the opportunity to learn from your senior players, and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing!” Both hands come up, one pointing to the left side of the court and one to the right, “third years on one side! The rest on the other!” They listen without hesitation, splitting up into separate locations. The sounds of shoes scuffling across the floor sound like a heard of buffalo and it sends a wave of excitement through you. You turn your body towards the right, “My beloved third years! You will be devising your own teams! Or, if you can’t pick, I have pre-determined groups planned out!” To the left, “Wonderful second and first years, the same applies to you! Except, you may stay in your current teams, if you choose.” To no surprise of anyone, the juniors refuse to join other teams. Although, you do catch Tsukishima pass a glance to Fukurodani at the same time Akaashi peers over at Shiratorizawa. “The third-year teams will rotate against playing the junior teams! You’ll be able to get pointers from various teams, as well as your own seniors.” Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you finally move on to the final announcement. “My last piece of information before you all split up and begin your training; tomorrow, two of the universities Shiratorizawa has practice matches against will be coming to join! In the second half of the day, a tournament will be held between the third-year teams and the universities.” Excited roars rip through the walls, not a single person free from the elation your words have brought. While the right side of the court is a tad quieter than the left, when you look over, every senior holds an explicit thanks in their eyes that you know words will never speak the volume of. 

“But what about you, (Surname)-san?” Startled, you peer over your shoulder to Ukai, lips parted slightly in a question you can’t manage to squeeze out. “I’m sure you’d like to play again, too.” 

“She’ll be on my team,” Ushijima states with a voice that leaves no room for argument. But, you do, anyways. 

“I can’t, there’s other setters who -“ 

“You played libero for a few years, correct?” You nod dumbly, still too thrown off by his persistence for you to play. “Then you’ll be my libero.” 

You can’t help the smirk or biting blush his words bring. With far my seductive suaveness than you intended, you reply, “Yes, Captain.” A fucking vein nearly ruptures in the side of Kuroo’s head at the way you respond to Ushijima, and Bokuto nearly keels over from the oxygen he loses from laughing so hard. Tendo is in a similar state of manic cackling, more so from giddy pride in the two of you than to mock the jealous Nekoma Captain. Oikawa grins and skips up beside you, ignoring whatever is happening between you, Nekoma, and Shiratorizawa. “Oh, manager-chan! ~” 

You can practically hear Iwaizumi sneer out, “stupid shittykawa,” from farther down your side of the court. “I was wondering,” he wears that same blinding smile you flash, but it feels empty. He’s trying to hide his curiosity and possible self-consciousness behind it, knowing whatever he’s about to ask is picking at him far more than he’s willing to admit. “Why did you think of me when you planned this?”

“Oh,” the innocent question makes you blink back in surprise, but you don’t stumble to answer with complete honesty. “Your game against Karasuno. I watched you push yourself, throw your body to save the ball, fling from one side of the court to the other. But when you dove into those chairs just to get right back up and run to the court, honestly,” the smile you give him is so sweet there’s a chance he developed a cavity, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so moved watching someone play.” And just like that, those walls he keeps up crumble, and the real Oikawa makes a gracious appearance. Moisture gathers in his eyes, forming iridescent stars along his dark lashes. He remembers the words you told him that day you found him watching the match between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa. This time, his lips tug upwards in a smaller, but far more real smile before he bows his head in thanks. You don’t expect him to say anything, and he doesn’t, too choked up from your truthfulness. Daichi and Suga pass glances to each other, the same thought shared between their minds. For someone who is called the demon manager, you sure can be an angel.

Their tune changes no more than fifteen minutes later when you’re berating Tsukishima like a misbehaved dog for reverting back to his previous behavior of uncertain blocks. 

“You’ve blocked him before! Do it again!” You bark before marching back to your spot on the court. Tsukishima mumbles something under his breath about your nickname before getting ready, passing a glance to Ushijima right before the next serve flies from Suga’s hand. Naturally, you’re on a team with Ushijima, Tendo, Bokuto, Kuroo, Iwaizumi and Suga. Even while playing with them, you’re their biggest cheerleader, shouting out praise to both sides when they manage to improve or impress. But, naturally, your praise comes just as quickly as your scolding. Daichi and Oikawa find themselves chucking from the next court over as they watch and listen to you, both undeniably impressed by your skill. Daichi had seen you -accidentally- receive a hot ball once, but never had the opportunity to watch you play. In all fairness, almost none of them had. Aside from Tendo, everyone else had only managed to see you serve or receive maybe once or twice. “She’s something else,” Oikawa notes to no one in particular as their game comes to a close, the third years taking win over the first set. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Terushima snickers out with a tenor that screams trouble. It catches Oikawa’s attention, a brow arching with a curiosity to learn more. A quick, disapproving frown from Misaki has him shutting his mouth, deciding not to upset his manager so soon into the training camp. “I’ll tell you later.” Oikawa nods slowly, shifting his attention from Terushima over to where you are, diving to the floor and knocking the ball into play. Has Terushima managed to see you play before? Is there more skill or power that you’re hiding? 

**~*~*~*~*~**

You’ve already stripped down into a pair of spandex shorts you wore under your joggers, your Karasuno t-shirt still in place. You had worn the shorts with the intention of taking off your track pants in the instance you decided to play. But, from the amount of jumping and rolling you did while playing libero, you felt them ride up within the first ten minutes. Your cheeks were still spilling out of the bottom, but not uncomfortable enough to force you to fix them. You’d be taking them off to go to sleep soon, anyways. Sprawled across the bed on your stomach, busy responding to thirst text from Yuki, begging for pictures of Bokuto playing, you don’t bother to look back as someone enters the room. “How’d -“ Kuroo’s voice immediately falls, his throat clenching shut at the sight of your ass on partial display. Before you can catch him blatantly checking you out, he forces himself to regain normalcy. “How’d you score a dorm room? Thought they were full.” 

“Probably, but you know,” you toss your hair over your shoulder, “it’s me.” His hazel orbs roll to the back of his head, not in the least surprised at your boastfulness. You laugh, catching the unimpressed quirk of his lips from the glance you pass him. “No, I was supposed to be with the other managers. But, one of the boys gave up their room for me. As a thanks for planning all this.” You push yourself up on all fours in effort to sit down and face him, unaware of how the brief position makes him consider rubbing himself against you. How much he wants to watch your ass bounce against him as he rams his -

“Did you need something, Kuroo?” Oblivious to the filth running through his mind, you blink up at him with a hint of concern. He quickly clears his throat, ripping himself of the fantasy beginning to run rampant. 

“No,” he answers with a much smoother voice than he expected. “I just wanted to say goodnight before I head off to shower.” 

“Oh!” You smile, jumping off the bed with the sudden remainder of what you had been planning to do before getting distracted by Yuki, shower. You saunter up to him, hugging him with the sweetest sounding, “Goodnight, Kuroo!” Before grabbing the towel, you’d laid on top of the desk beside the bathroom door and disappearing into the adjoining room. 

The imagine of your much-too-short shorts are engraved in Kuroo’s mind, no matter how much he tries to shake it out. They left _nothing_ to the imagination, hugging every curve of your body. _Everywhere_. He had to fight back a groan when you arched on all fours, quick eyes darting to see if he could make out the outline of your lower lips through the tight, thin material. He wasn’t that lucky. He undressed quickly, determined to throw himself under the stream of freezing water to cool himself off. But even as the water, set in the coldest setting, nips across his hot flesh, he’s still panting with need. The way your back arched like a cat stretching in the sun wiggles its way into his mind, and all he can imagine is jumping you from behind. One hand ripping those useless shorts off while the other curls into your hair. His fist pumps along his length to the tune he’d rub himself against you. Long, teasing motions that make you beg for him sheath himself inside. He speeds up, upper body hunching forward as he presses a forearm against the shower wall. Kuroo closes his eyes, pretending his hand is your tight hole. He can picture your breasts bouncing in synch with his thrusts, the water from the shower overhead splashing off the wonderful mounds of flesh. He can nearly hear you crying out for him as the head of his cock slams into your sweet spot over and over until you’re cumming on him, walls tightening in attempt to milk him. With a low growl he cums, ropes of white splattering against the wall and sliding down to the floor of the shower. He rinses off himself and the evidence of jerking off to the idea of fucking one of his closest friends. Of course, it’s not the first time he’s done it. And he’s doubtful it’ll be the last. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

You told yourself not to do it, that it was wrong and a line that shouldn’t be crossed, but you can’t help yourself. After drying off from your shower, you slipped into a cute, but comfy pair of panties. You looked at the tank top you brought to sleep in, but for some reason, the jersey neatly folded over the back of the desk chair calls your name. Against your better judgement, you slip it on. The maroon and white top hugs your hips, thighs, and chest like a second skin. But it bags and droops like a t-shirt a size too large around your middle. The way it fits means little to nothing to you, more focus on how comfortable you feel in it. You’d been surrounded by his scent earlier, wrapped in the blankets he slept in. And now, wrapped in one of his volleyball jerseys, you can’t help how intimate it feels. _Something a girlfriend would do_ , you remind yourself. You move back to the bed, about to rid yourself of the beautiful top with the number “1” visibly printed on it to change into the boring tank top. The only thing that stops you is the dorm room door opening for him to come in. You freeze like prey trapped under the scorching stare of a starving predator locked in on its next meal. 

Oh. 

_Oh no._

This looks bad, doesn’t it? 

Any defense you have seizes on your tongue when you finally allow yourself to judge his reaction. He’s long since closed the door behind him, his half-lidded eyes sizing you up from top to bottom, but most of his focus lingers around that article of clothing wrapped around you. It conceals nothing. He can see the entire length of your legs, oddly long for someone with no height to them. The hem of his shirt just barely covers your womanhood, and he imagines at least an inch of your bubble-shaped ass is hanging out the back. Lust is painted across his face, and when you hear his breathing deepen as his heartbeat increases, he can see your nipples pebble under the white cloth. You allow yourself a minute to appreciate the way his shorts twitch from the growing hardness underneath because of your decision to wear his clothes. 

It takes him all of four strides before he’s directly in front of you. One hand latches onto the back of your neck, his thumb and middle fingers pressing roughly into the flesh and creating a delicious pressure that makes you let out a breathy moan. His other hand grips your chin, raising your head to look him in the eyes. You stutter over your words, his name coming out like a soft plea, “Wakatoshi.” His lips are on yours in an instant, not needing to ask this time. Your hands grab at the front of his shirt, dragging him closer to you. He releases you, one hand coming to palm at your stomach before he’s pushing you backwards on to the bed. He grabs your hips, pushing you high enough up so that he can grab behind your knees and bend them until both of your feet are flat against his mattress, legs spread open and bent in the air. Ushijima lets out a throaty groan as he eyes the smooth, ivory material clinging to you. They’re unbelievably thin, the wetness at your entrance already enough to make the barely-there material cling to you. Even without moving your panties to the side, he has a view of your pussy that makes him throb in his pants. When his fingers hook into the top of your underwear, you just know he’s gearing up to devour you like a man starved. With blinding reflexes, you grab his hands in yours, stopping him from going further. He raises his head to meet your stare, and just seeing him between your legs makes you gush. “You took care of me last time,” you tell him, reminding him of how he fingered you the prior weekend until you finished on his hand. “Let me t-take care of you.” Even with a mild stutter that makes it seem like you’re unsure, he can read you to perfection. You’re steeled in your resolve, but nervous excitement managed to get the better of you. 

Ushijima removes himself from between your legs, instead moving to sit at the edge of the bed. You slip off the mattress with ease and sink to your knees in front of him. Your nails scrape against his hips slightly as your grab at the hem of his shorts and boxers. He lifts his hips just enough to give you room to pull them off, letting them pool around his ankles. You knew from rubbing him through his pants he was huge, but seeing his dick standing at attention in front of you is awe-inspiring. You give a kitten lick right at the base of the head and his fingers dig into the blankets. Starting slow, you begin lapping at the base of his -more than- impressive length, working your tongue farther up and all the way around until you suck the tip completely inside your hot mouth. Ushijima groans at the sensation. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten a blow job, but even from just the little you’ve done, he swears he’s never felt so good. As your work your mouth further down his length, one of his hands finds purchase in your silky hair. You hum slightly, enjoying the feel of his fingers against your scalp. He wants to pull against the smooth tresses, bounce your mouth against him until you gag, but he has no clue to your experience or preferences. The last thing he’d ever wish is to hurt or scare you. But that doesn’t mean he can’t test the waters, just a bit. His grip tightens and you moan, tongue briefly pausing from the way it was lashing around his swollen appendage. The growl that resounds from the back of his throat sends a shiver down your spine and through your legs. You pull off him with an audible ‘ _pop_ ,’ continuing to stoke what you couldn’t find in your mouth. “‘Toshi,” he looks down at you, the amount of restraint he’s using damn near saintly. But that’s not what you want from him. “Fuck my face.” With a gasp, you find your hair twisted around his hand like a dog leash. Enough strain to create a mouth-watering sting, but not enough to pull anything from the roots. The quick and rough pace he sets is not what you expected from him at all. Ushijima has always been quiet and reserved, and while the previous weekend proved he had some experience, you didn’t think he’d have enough to handle you so easily. Or the confidence to dominate you with such undeniable power. The rate his cock pistons in and out of your mouth gives you no time to swallow, allowing a pool of saliva to pour from your mouth and down your chin. His length is undeniable, and it feels like he’s reaching the very bottom of your throat as he impales you over and over. The gags you make from the speed he pumps in and out of your soft mouth only eggs him on until both hands are threaded through your hair. When you look up at him, tears just beginning to prick your eyes due to finding a rhythm to breathe at, you can see the swell of lust rise through him. He despises seeing you upset. But watching the hot tracks slide down your cheeks at the same time 3/4th of his cock slips down your throat - 

Ushijima’s head finally tips back as his steady movements turn sloppy. He stills with just the tip inside, and you hallow your cheeks as much as you can, providing him with a sinfully wonderful pressure that has him streaming ribbons of white onto your tongue. He makes a command the moment he feels his final spurt slip onto your slick muscle, “open.” You comply, flexing your tongue to cup his emission in the center, being sure none of it spills. “Swallow.” Again, you do as he says, swallowing without a hint of disgust. Deciding to go above and beyond, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out once again, showing him how well you listened to his orders. The display only makes a low rumble sound from the depths of his chest, adding another flutter to your aching cunt. But just like he did with you, you end the night there. “Tendo and the others will be suspicious,” you tell him. He agreed to share a room with Tendo, to allow you to stay in his, but you know your grandfather will be making rounds to ensure his boys are behaving. 

And you. 

Ushijima is quick to agree, having a similar thought cross his mind. The two of you share a quick kiss, worried anything longer will only make any common sense fly out the window. When he leaves, you collapse back on his bed, pulling one of his pillows over your face to quietly shriek into. Even though it just happened, you can’t believe it. Furthering whatever is happening between the two of you is as thrilling as it is terrifying. You curl up into his blankets, breathing in his scent with a content sigh. It’s not as satisfying as being able to curl up beside him and fall asleep, but for now, it’s enough. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

The other managers refuse to let you help them with prepping breakfast in the morning. “You’re the reason we’re all here,” Yachi points out with her usual stutter absent. She’s grown used to you and being closer to her height has done wonders to make her feel more comfortable around you. Even though Kiyoko had giggled out something about the petite blonde finding you intimidating when you play. 

“If it wasn’t for you, half of these boys would still be moping,” Miyanoshita added. 

“I know mine were,” Otaki sighs, thinking about how quickly her team deflated following their loss during the playoffs. You can only roll your eyes, quickly announcing that you _will_ be assisting with dinner, before exiting the dining hall and heading back to change into clothes more suitable to train in. You had gone down to breakfast in a pair of green, blue, and white tie dyed sweats that cuffed at the ankles, and a plain, white tank top. 

“I see there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” and all too familiar voice prods from behind as you round a corner. 

“I could have sworn I told you not to worry about me beyond our normal relationship.” 

“What can I say?” You can hear the metal ball drag across his teeth and his tongue swipes over them. “You caught my attention.” It wasn’t a lie. To Terushima, you were a quick, easy fuck. An amazing lay with an even better body, and pretty face to boot. Finding out you were a manager for another volleyball club left a twisted sense of accomplishment in him. Then, after seeing you play yesterday; he knew there was no way he could avoid screwing with you. 

“You’re not going to sweep my off my feet, Terushima.” You spin on your heels to face him, a scornful pout present. “You’re a great lay when I’m shit-faced with no brain cells going, but that’s it. And that’s the only time I care to deal with you. Nothing about you actually strikes my interest. You’re a playboy with a generic personality. I could find more variety in the flour section of a store.” You step up to him, a dark chuckle rolling out as you hook a finger into the collar of his shirt. “Besides, the last time we were together, you couldn’t get a simple mewl out of me. Seems like a waste of my time, really.” He scoffs, reeling out of your touch. Rejection is not something he’s accustomed to, but spite certainly is. And you’ve just secured you place at the top of his list of people he plans to drag through the mud. 

“Fine,” he sneers, pushing forward into your space, continuing forward until you have no choice, but to back up into the nearest wall. His hands slam against the wall on either side of your head, the power he uses rattling your brain from the vibrations against the surface. “Game on, bitch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohhh!!! I've been so excited to get to the training camp!! Who is ready for some fucking DRAMA?


	6. Camp (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We rolling straight through with the training camp arc! I was hoping to make it only 2 chapters, but it will def end at three. And without further adue, I bring you, ALL THE TEA!  
> Also, *ahem* Tsukki has entered the chat!

The morning rounds of practice matches began to slow, a majority of the managers vanishing to prepare for lunch. Your third-year team was on a final set against Aoba Johsai, the score a painful 24-13. The younger players of the team refused to so much as even glance in Oikawa’s general direction, imagining the look of exasperation on his face. But you watched him, forcing down a smile when you could tell he was making mental notes of what to tell them they needed to focus on, work harder on. It didn’t take much to realize Oikawa was not a dictator of a Captain. You saw how, when his team lost, he assured them it wasn’t their fault, doing what he could in his disheveled state to make sure none of his players felt personally responsible. That they knew how well they played. All while he shouldered the weight of the loss on himself.

Despite not knowing him well, you did admire Oikawa. Not in the way his fan girls did. You weren’t blind, he was gorgeous, but you wouldn’t swoon over him the way others did. No, you admired the person he was. In a few ways, he reminded you of yourself. Quick to put on a smile for others while drowning inside. Throwing out praise without a second’s notice while beating yourself down at the exact same time. You and Oikawa were one in the same, you wouldn’t pretend not to notice it. Though it made you wonder exactly who he was; truly was. You’d managed to catch snippets of the man behind the mask a few times, and from what you saw, you were more than pleased. “ _I really hope_ ,” you slid your leg out, going into a half split, letting the ball bounce off your ankle and back into the air, “ _he gets the confidence_ ,” Suga sets for Ushijima, allowing him to score the final point against your opponents, “ _to be himself_.” You jump to your feet with a ‘whoop,’ bumping fists with Tendo and Kuroo to celebrate your teams win.

Nekomata waves you over from the side, Washijo and Ukai lingering by the doors of the gym. You take that as your cue to exit, knowing that probably means the two universities have shown up. They’re a bit earlier than you expected, but it doesn’t matter. If anything, that makes it easier. You’ll have more than enough time to run them through everything, eat lunch, and have time to yourself to cool down before the big competition starts. “I’ll be back in a bit! Everyone feel free to take a break!” You jog over to Nekomata, following him outside along with the other two coaches.

“She’s insane,” Oikawa notes with a hint of admiration as he watches you leave. He’s clearly talking about your ability as a libero, but Terushima has every intention of perverting the compliment.

“You really have no idea,” the Johzenji playboy snickers, mischief written across his face.

“Oh?” There’s a nagging feeling deep in Oikawa’s gut that tells him not to play into his game, but he can’t help the curiosity burning through himself.

“She’s fucking wild.” Oikawa’s brows raise, blinking a few times in rapid succession. What? “I’ve met her at a lot of parties. Can’t say sober her is a pleasant experience,” he shrugs with as much nonchalance as possible before a shit-eating grin tugs at his lips, “but drunk her? Now that’s a god-sent.” Terushima does nothing to conceal his conversation, but isn’t raising his voice, either. He has to be as casual with this as possible, can’t make it obvious he’s trying to dog you. It’s abundantly clear you have a boisterous number of friends at the camp, and even those who aren’t close seem rather fond of you. Oikawa hasn’t verbally responded to Terushima, and there’s a sensation under his skin that makes him want to squirm, but he can’t bring himself to walk away. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t intrigued to hear more, even if the aura from Terushima is as far from innocent as possible. “Shit, if you think she’s hot in her shorts and t-shirt, you wouldn’t believe how she looks without them.” At this point, Oikawa’s mind has shifted from listening to Terushima’s lewd rambling to finding someone to help. His immediate thought is to look for Kuroo, Daichi, or Bokuto. The three Captains are unbearably close to you and would easily help him out of this bind, as well as set Terushima straight. But none of them are around, and he can’t swallow his pride enough to consider looking for Ushijima. So, he stands as stiff as a statue, his discomfort oozing like miasma as the other male continues to ramble about all the things you’ve done with him in bed.

Ushijima has been listening to the conversation since the moment he realized they were talking about you. The more Terushima runs his mouth, the more Ushijima can feel his body grow hot. Part of him feels an achy jealousy, but mostly, he’s just furious. Oikawa’s shifting eyes and furrowed brows scream how much he’s begging for help, but Ushijima has lost the will to interfere on his behalf. Tendo and Semi freeze mid-conversation as they see Ushijima abruptly turn and stride towards the two. They had overheard snippets of the conversation, but unlike the Ace, didn’t realize who was the center of the slew. When Ushijima stops in front of the two, he just stares down at them over his nose. There’s a slight tweak to his expression, eyes just barely narrowed, brows slightly knitted. It doesn’t take much to realize he’s pissed, but that knowledge only serves to spur Terushima further. Seeing the golden Ace, the perfect captain, struggling to maintain composure sets him on fire with smug delight. “Oh, I’m sorry,” there’s not a trace of sincerity in his tone, “did your little girlfriend not tell you about me? Shame. Can’t say I’m surprised,” he looks up at Ushijima, almond eyes locking with olive, “that’s what happens when you date a slut.” Tendo and Semi are right behind their captain at this point, watching as his patience ticked away to nothing. He’s losing his temper and it’s clear to everyone around. Aside from a few groups on the outskirts of the gym, blissfully ignorant to the slaughter brewing while they chatter away, those close to the confrontation have fallen silent.

Kuroo, Bokuto, and Daichi return from their trip to the vending machine only to see as Ushijima clenches his fists and walks away. Steam is practically billowing from his skull and the three boys are dwarfed by the size of his rage. Kuroo asks Lev what happened, seeing the boy standing off to the side, jaw dropped.

“I, um ...... Ushijima and the Johzenji kid almost got into a fight.”

“Clearly,” Kuroo rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to hit the younger male upside the head. “Why?” Lev doesn’t answer, his brows furrowing as he finally meets the curious glances from his three seniors.

“Lev, what the hell happened?” Questions Bokuto, unnerved at his apparent inability to speak on the altercation. Daichi sees movement from the corner of his eye, the tiny figure immediately registering in his mind. He goes to give you a friendly smile but freezes the second he notices your disheveled appearance.

Your face is flushed in a furious crimson, optics glazed over from residual tears, the stains of them obvious across your cheeks. You had returned to the gym at the same time Terushima started to talk about how heavenly your moans were. Your instant spark of aggression quickly ebbed to distraught when you saw Ushijima. There was no question about it, he heard the slander and knew exactly who was being spoken about. Your heart shattered in that moment, knowing full well he’d learned far more than you’d ever hoped.

You move before Ushijima has the chance to get over to you, storming through the crowds of boys to make your way directly in front of Terushima. His shit eating grin fails the moment your hand whacks across his cheek, a stinging print left against his flesh. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” Your voice is a quiet rasp, but it sounds like a scream through the dead silence that has fallen over the gymnasium. Terushima brings a hand up, covering the red handprint staining his pale skin. His shock fades to vengeful smugness, eyes narrowing as a lopsided grin crosses his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I not supposed to tell people?” He makes a laughing scoff, hand coming up to his hip and he shifts his weight to one leg, hip slightly popping out. “I mean, it’s not a surprise. You threw yourself at everyone at the parties, it’s not like you being a whore is really a mystery.” Kuroo’s blood boils, his head dropping for his bangs to cover the growing display of fury building in his features. “You’re lucky I was there, really,” Terushima steps closer to you, towering over you with a darkness in his eyes that screams his desire to ruin the reputation you’ve built with the rest of the boys. “You were three steps away from dropping to your knees in a circle of dicks.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, not wanting to believe him, but knowing the claim is likely true. The only thing burning more than the truth is knowing it’s all coming out in front of the people you care most about, the people you never wanted to know about that side of you. In the back, Tendo and Semi have corralled around Ushijima, no longer interested in holding him back, but waiting for him to make the first move. Bokuto has a hand lingering at the back of Kuroo’s jersey, ready to pull him back if he bolts forward for an attack. Even Asahi and Ennoshita are struggling to keep Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Hinata in check. Tsukishima has his hands balled at his side; jaw clenched so tight that Yamaguchi can easily see the strain in his face. “If you didn’t want me to talk about it, maybe you shouldn’t be so easy.” Terushima chuckles, taking another step into your personal space. He’s a hairs breadth away, yours neck straining back in effort to look up and meet his intensive stare. Your heart is hammering against your chest, lungs pleading for oxygen as you hold your breath to keep the impending sobs at bay. “I’m surprised you haven’t spread your legs for -“ his next insult is cut short by a hand on his shoulder, the strength of the person involved easily spinning him around. Lev rocks a fist into Terushima’s jaw with no restraint, the resounding crack echoing in your mind like a rock falling into the depths of a cavern. Terushima collapses under the weight of Lev’s strike, knocked flat on his ass in an instant. Not another word is spared, Terushima remaining on the ground, glaring down at the wooden floor underneath him. Before your brain can fully register everything that happened, an arm wraps around your shoulder, whisking you away. You look up to see a mop of olive-tinted brown locks, his expression darkened by the way he’s still fighting back any emotion that’s daring to rear out. There’s a commotion behind you, but when you go to look, Ushijima only pulls you closer to him. Kuroo, Bokuto, and Daichi are all shuffling behind you with Tendo and Kenma trailing at the back end.

When your hurried group passes the huddle of coaches outside, Daichi is quick to come up with an excuse. You hear him mention something about you not feeling well, probably from not drinking enough water or taking enough breaks while playing. Their skepticism isn’t unnoticed, but they decide to let it slide and let you all leave without another word spoken. To no surprise, Ushijima guides you all to his dorm room, leading you to sit on the bed with him. Kenma sits at Ushijima’s desk, the chair turned to face the bed. Bokuto and Daichi follow in the youngers lead, keeping a safe distance from the rest while making sure you know they’re there to listen. Tendo has taken place on your other side, sandwiching you between him and Ushijima. Kuroo desperately wants to make Tendo move, but settles for sitting on the floor, directly in front of you. 

“What happened?” The bedhead asks, hazel eyes piercing you like a spear.

“Terushima was talking to Oikawa about a girl he’s been hooking up with at parties,” Tendo answers for you, seeing how you struggle to string even a simple sentence together. “Got a little unsavory in the amount of details he was sharing.”

“He was being a prick.” The quick way Ushijima bluntly stares his thoughts brings the faintest of smiles to your face. It’s so uncommon for him to talk down on others. Intentionally, at least. “He had no right to speak about her like that.”

“(Name),” you shift your gaze from your lap to the male on the floor. “I thought you told me -“

“I lied.” Your voice is a hoarse whisper, still raw with pure emotion. It’s that moment Bokuto, Kenma, and Daichi decide to break from the pack. There’s a deeper conversation to be held, one the three of them don’t feel confident intruding on. Having stuck around long enough to at least figure out how the drama began; they’re satisfied with that much. It’s enough to help them back up Lev, if need be, for decking Terushima.

You wait for the three to leave before continuing, using the gap of silence to collect yourself. There’s no holding back, no option to hide or lie anymore. If you’re going to come clean, now is the time. Lying won’t do anything except infuriate them and build a wedge in your relationship. The instant the door clicks shut; three sets of eyes fall right back to you. You release an extended sigh. Here you go. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you,” even though you’re not looking at anyone, Kuroo knows you’re talking to him. “I didn’t want you to go to that party with me. I didn’t want you to see me drunk. I didn’t want you to judge me. But not because I was unsure of what I’m like under the influence. I’m,” you pause, but no gracious words cross your mind, “I’m a mess when I’m drunk. I try to hook up with random people, I don’t care about what happens to me, I get out of control.”

“Why do you do it?” The question comes from Tendo this time.

“There’s a numbness being drunk brings. One that’s different from the kind I usually feel. It locks the pain away, at least until I sober up.” You still refuse to look anywhere other than at the top of your palms, resting flat against the top of your thighs. “I’d rather feel the nothingness drinking brings than what’s normally on my mind. I know it’s not safe or smart or healthy, but it’s easy. It’s easier than confronting whatever’s bothering me.” You look up to see the somber expression Tendo and Kuroo give, but Ushijima has steeled himself. His face is devoid of any emotion, giving you the cold, dead look he usually wears any other time. Ushijima has never been a man of much emotional range, but you’ve always been able to read the truth in his eyes. But you can see the truth glimmering behind his olive orbs, disappointment. It makes your gut wrench, your throat constrict as your chest convulses, your cries already at the breaking point. Of all the people you never wanted to have look down on you, he was one of the top three. “Wakatoshi, I’m so sor -“ your face is buried in his chest before you can choke out your apology. Your mind is running at warp speed, struggling to process what’s happening. You knew you let him down, you knew he had to lose some respect for you by learning the truth. But as his hand strokes through your hair, you can’t help to feel anything other than relief.

“You should have come to me sooner. You know I would have helped you.” There’s no denying his statement is true; you knew Ushijima would have offered any assistance he could, he always has. He’d gladly suffocate if it meant you could breathe again.

“I know,” is all you can muster out, voice hushed and shaky. Tendo taps Kuroo on the shoulder, nodding his head towards the door in a signal for the two of them you give you privacy. Kuroo hesitates, wanting to wrap you in his arms and tell you how special and amazing you are, how much you mean to everyone. To him. He watches as your tiny hands clutch at Ushijima’s chest, fingers balling the material of his shirt in white knuckles as sobs wrack your body. He relents, but not before deciding that before this camp is over, he’ll have his own heart to heart with you. He won’t let you return home without agreeing to seek help. He peeks over his shoulder one more time, in the doorway, to see Ushijima rubbing circles into your back with one hand while the other cradles the back of your head. But the only thing consuming him is how much his heart aches for you and the demons you’ve been fighting on your lonesome. No one, not even Kuroo, suspected how little self-worth you felt towards yourself.

**~*~*~*~*~**

Kuroo is at a mixed table for lunch, deciding to break from spending his meals with just his team. He’s in a group with Daichi, Suga, Bokuto, Akaashi, Tendo, Semi, Tsukishima, and Iwaizumi. He half expected Oikawa to join them, seeing as his best friend did, but Iwaizumi informed him that the setter had been distancing himself since the incident earlier. Just by mentioning the event sets a new wave of anger through the group, and Kuroo is quick to vent his own feelings about Terushima’s behavior. “What’s wrong, cat bastard? She cheat on you, too?” Unlike Ushijima, Kuroo does absolutely nothing to hide his disgust and aggravation. He snaps his body around, still seated, to glare at the sunny-toned blonde.

“Are you really trying to run your mouth again?”

Terushima shrugs, tray of food in hand, “is it really shit talk if it’s true?”

“Who are you to decide it’s true?” Bokuto asks, not bothering to grace him with a single look. The beef on his plate is far more interesting.

“I mean, considering she was begging for me to fuck her every chance I could,” Kuroo bolts out of his seat in an instant, not making a reach towards Terushima, but warning him he’s not afraid to get physical. “Oh, what? That strike a nerve? Don’t tell me, you’re jealous I’ve been inside her and you haven’t.”

“If you thought a hit from Lev was something, you’re going to be in a world of surprise when I rock your shit.”

“He’s not worth the effort, Kuroo-kun.” Aforementioned blocker turns to look at Tsukishima, who has decided to enter the chat. He looks cool and collected, but the others can see the malicious cogs turning in his brain. “Someone like him would never learn, from physical reprimand or otherwise.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, four-eyes?”

“Being generous, you have the mental capacity of a brain-dead fish. You lack the intelligence to learn a lesson, even if it’s beaten into you. That much is clear by the way you keep antagonizing those around you who could easily put you in place.” His palm cradles the side of his jaw, resting the weight of his head into it. He looks bored, but testing the cocky asshole is more than amusing. “You’re also trying to demonize someone who is more than respected among her peers, and I doubt it’s because your smart enough to plan out any successful plot of revenge.” His opposite hand comes up, carding through his hair. “I just can’t exactly figure out your plan. You truly strike me as nothing more than a selfish bastard, which means you were probably a lackluster lay. Let me guess, you couldn’t get her off, so she dropped you.” A subtle twitch through Terushima confirms the assumption. “What a pity, you’re as disgraceful in bed as you are at volleyball. A word of advice, stop trying to tear down someone far above your league,” he flashes an ‘eat shit’ smirk, “and stick to the bottom rung, where you belong.”

“Volleyball isn’t the only thing we’ll destroy you in,” Akaashi adds with a cool glare that makes the threat feel more intimidating than Terushima would ever let on. He simply scoffs, turning his nose up and walking away. There’s no come back to Tsukishima’s scolding words, anyways.

“I really don’t like that piece of shit,” Suga mutters before taking a sip of his drink. But the day is long from done, and Terushima is far from the safe zone. Iwaizumi watches as the boy sits with his team, only for the notoriously silent managers to immediately lean into him, chewing him out for being such a pig. His plan to ruin you couldn’t have backfired more.

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Do you hate me?” The question knocks the air out of Ushijima’s lungs, and from your position on his chest, you can hear how his heart painfully clenches before releasing a deafening thump.

“No. I could never hate you, (Name).” There’s something else he wants to say, the evidence in the way his voice trails. You nudge your cheek against him, encouraging him to speak his mind. “I’m confused. About us.” The words have a far greater pull over you than expected, making you feel abnormally small and meek. “You were using sex as a coping mechanism. What happened between us, was that -“

“No!” You answer before he can finish, jolting some. You shift your position, turning more towards him, your head coming up to rest in the crook of his shoulder. “No, ‘Toshi. What happened between us was real. I,” the words catch in your throat, forcing you to swallow hard before trying to get them out once more. “I like you, ‘Toshi. What we did wasn’t mindless, I wanted to do it.” He hums in consideration. He knows how he feels about you and now, to a certain degree, he’s aware that you feel the same. There’s a tingling urge to confess, but it doesn’t feel like the right time. He knows it’s not the right time. It’s another thing Ushijima doesn’t want to over think, and instead of doing so, falls back to his usual self.

“When you’re ready, you’ll tell me.” There’s no further context needed. He doesn’t have to walk you through what he meant, because as soon as he said it, you understood.

“I will.”

“We should get food.” Nodding, you remove yourself from his hold. Separating from him feels like the temperature around you dropped a solid five degrees. You’d never realized before how much body heat, he radiates, and you know you could stay curled up with him all day. Not a single complaint about it. He moves to stand after you’ve slipped off the bed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him.

“I don’t agree with what he said about you,” he said it earlier, but he feels the need to repeat it. To make sure you know, without a doubt, he can’t see you in such a low light. You smile at him, wiggling your wrist out of his grasp to slide your hand into his, “I know, ‘Toshi.”

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Nice kill!” You yell out to Kuroo, running back to the court from where you saved a ball that went too far. You wiggle your middle finger under the scrunchie in your wrist, using your nail to flick it off and quickly tying your hair up in a ponytail. To the absolute surprise of no one, your overpowered team made it to the final match of the tournament against the university. The score was close, but your team of captains was giving the older players a run for their money. “You’re a wild card, aren’t ‘cha?” The opposing libero calls out, watching you with a Cheshire grin. You flash back a cocky smirk, rising from resting your hands on your knees, “you have no idea.” You look to Suga and wiggle your brows, a signal he knows all too well. The two of you had spent the remainder of your lunch break devising subtle cues for plays. So far, none of the teams have caught on to your silent dialogue. This is also the first time you’ve used this move the entire day.

Suga serves and you watch the ball like an eagle. After a decent volley is going, Suga sets the ball. The universities blockers immediately move to cover Ushijima, knowing full well even with all three of them, they’ve barely managed to stop his spikes. Spiking has never been your best attribute, rarely able to get the height required for it. But you’d practiced enough with Suga and Ushijima to be able to pull it off at least once a game. There’s no time for them to switch positions once they realize the set went to you, and before anyone else on the team has realized it, your back on the ground and the ball is rolling around the court. “Match point!” The referee, Johzenji’s coach, calls. You snicker as you walk past Tendo, calling out for both teams to hear, “you ready to watch me take this last point?”

“Hm, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Kuroo coos back, only half joking. You move into the server spot, baffling the university players along with a few of your own teammates. Tsukishima nearly chuckles when he watches your petite figure vanish behind the giants surrounding you, knowing full well how unintimidating it looks. But the university players are on high alert, the trust your team puts it you to serve only proving that you’re a force to reckon with, and at no point should they underestimate you. Watching how they all focus on your every motion makes you debate returning to play in college; perhaps your original assumption that no one would accept a tiny setter being incorrect.

“That’s the game, boys!” Is all you say before slamming out the meanest serve you’ve ever summoned. Tendo can hear the ball zip through the air, watching as the blockers completely miss their target by a mile. The ball smacks in the only open spot on the court with a deafening smack that makes the entire gym fall silent.

Chaos, that’s the only word to describe what happens next. Every spectator is screaming at the top of their lungs, the coaches laughing at the way their students celebrate the win of an unofficial match. Your arms are straight in the air, trotting around your side of the court before Tendo is throwing you into the air like a weightless doll. “You kids are something else,” the Captain from the university team chuckles, crossing the court to join the side the third years are on. “I hope you’re planning to play next year. I could picture you on a professional team.”

“Thank you!” Tendo sets you down from lifting you like a plane above his head. “But I won’t be focusing on sports. I’m becoming a doctor.”

“Oh? That’s a shame.”

“What?! Come in, you wouldn’t want to see me walk in to treat you?”

“I’d probably think you were a lost child,” one of the other players cackle. You deadpan as the other around laugh, crossing your arms over your chest as you mutter explicits under your breath.

“I hope the rest for the same of you! And even if you don’t plan to pursue the sport, just know you’re all incredibly skilled.”

“We’d be honored to compete with any of you!” Your team bows at their gracious words, calling out a heartfelt ‘thank you’ in union.

By the time you had helped see the university teams off, it was close to dinner. You had bid your team a quick goodbye before making your way off to the dining hall to help prep dinner. “I didn’t know you were such a good player, (Name)-chan!” Yachi exclaims with an excited smile.

“I used to play all the time! I decided to step back to focus on school once high school started.”

“You would have taken Nekoma to nationals!”

“I still did,” you giggle, referring to your position as the manager. You know she meant the girls team, but you don’t like to hang on ‘what if’s.’ “Oh! Kaori-chan, do you mind doing me a favor?”

“What’s up?” The brunette stops her prepping to get ready to do whatever you ask.

“Do you mind telling the boys I need them all to show up for dinner at 6? I still haven’t told them how the last day will go.”

“Oka - wait! Why me?”

You point the tongs you were using to grill meat with over at Yachi, “she will pass out. I refuse not to cook at least once during this camp. That leaves you or Misaki-san, and you’re a lot louder.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, knowing that you’re right. Having to deal with Bokuto and manage to talk over him during practices, she’ll be able to gather the collective attention with ease.

Like clockwork, 6pm struck and there wasn’t a soul missing from the hall. Everyone had gathered to hear your announcement on how the final day would go, and while it was simple, you were still excited.

“Thank you everyone for arriving on time!” You announce from your place on top one of the chairs, wanting to be sure your voice and body didn’t get lost in the sea of people. Plus, you want to gauge their reactions. “Since tomorrow is the last day, I wanted to plan something for everyone to just hangout. I know it’s cold out, and a barbecue is out of the picture, but I came up with another idea. Tomorrow we’ll be doing a hot pot to celebrate the week!” The hunger in their eyes makes you grateful that Washijo and the other captains went ahead to get more than enough meats for the beasts. “And, since it is a Saturday night, you’re free to do whatever you’d like. There will also be no curfew tonight. Right?” You draw out the question, pleadingly glancing at the coaches. In truth, it works out in their favor, they’d been planning to go out into the town for drinks, anyway. Washijo nods, confirming it for you. “Alright!” You clap your hands, elation sprawled across your face, “Then eat up and enjoy the rest of your night!” The second you hop down, Daichi comes up to you. “(Name)-chan.”

“Yes, Dadchi?” He still snickers at the nickname.

“I’ve been talking to a few of the other third years. We’re setting up the first gym for a movie night. Would you like to join us?”

“Um, hell yeah! What are we watching?”

“We haven’t decided yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out together.”

“Sounds great! I can’t wait!”

You end up eating dinner with Karasuno, finding yourself to enjoy their company immensely. While you enjoy quite a few players from other teams, Karasuno seems to be the only club, aside from your own, where you feel comfortable with _everyone_. None of them, with the exception of when you first met Tsukishima, are the least bit hostile. Not towards you, at least. Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Tsukishima can be unpredictable. Strike that, “ _Tsukki is always a little shit_ ,” you remind yourself with a giggle. Daichi is in the middle of complimenting Suga on his performance, today especially, while Hinata is in a conversation between you, Yamaguchi, and Kinoshita. While the orange-haired first year is animatedly focused on your libero skills, Yamaguchi is far more impressed with your serve, while Kinoshita compliments your random spike. You admit without hesitation that being able to pull it off more than that one time was extremely unlikely, and you were amazed you managed it at all. “Could you _imagine_ if that team was one, we actually had to compete against!?” Noya’s exasperate voice carries over the side conversations, quickly pulling everyone into one.

“No. That would just be lethal,” Ennoshita visibly shivers at the idea.

“It would. A shame I wouldn’t be on it.”

“What?” Tanaka deflates at your comment. “Why?”

“Um,” you quirk a brow at him, looking at everyone else to see if he is the only one confused. The other third years are just smiling, their best effort to conceal their amusement at his loss. Tsukishima and Kageyama just shake their head, the onyx haired male set with a deadpan stare. “Tanaka-kun, you do realize I’m a girl, right?”

“Yeah, so – _oh_!” You giggle as he rubs at the back of his neck, face pink from embarrassment. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten you were female. He simply overlooked that the boys and girls have separate teams.

“Oh, (Name)-chan! ~” Tendo swings into view, somehow managing to wiggle himself in between you and Hinata in order to sit directly beside you. One of his arms wrap around your shoulders, “the team is gathering in Waka-kun’s room to hangout for a bit before the third years go to movie night! We wanted you to join us.” Instinctively, it feels like a trap. Another group plot to push you and Ushijima into a situation where you would be forced to confront your feelings. As if he can see the caution signs going up in your mind, he adds, “nothing like _that_! Always so paranoid, (Name)-chan. ~” The giggle he adds on the end does _nothing_ to settle the suspicion growing in your gut, but you know he wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t serious.

“I’ll be there. Is the whole team coming?”

“Yamagata, Kawanishi, and Ohira decided to do some personal training. Everyone else will be, though.”

“Alright. I’ll be up in a bit!” Tendo nods, ruffling your hair before sauntering away and out of the dining hall.

“How did you become so close with Shiratorizawa, (Name)-chan?”

“Huh?” It takes you a moment to understand why Asahi is asking, but then it hits you; only Hinata and Tsukishima know your ties to the club. “Oh! I’ve known Satori-kun since I was in middle school, and Coach Washijo is my grandfather.”

“I feel like that explains a lot,” Kageyama notes, more to himself than anything. You spend the next fifteen minutes elaborating on what it was like to grow-up with the fabled coach, how you became friends with the intimidating redhead, and the ruckus the two of you caused together. Your time with Karasuno comes to an end when you see Semi and Goshiki standing at the doors of the hall, both looking at you as if to question if you were coming. Looking over at the table they had been occupying, you notice Shiratorizawa has evacuated the dining area. “Well, fellas,” you stand, stretching back to crack your spine in the process, “that’s my cue to head out.” Your arms stretch high, left elbow popping at the same time your right shoulder does. Yamaguchi wears his concern clear as day, listening to how your bones and joints creak like an old house.

“(N-Name)-chan, are you alright?” Hinata’s voice is quiet as he asks, a small ‘v’ forming between his brows from the way his face scrunches at the sound of another crack; this time from your knee and hip and you pull yourself over the bench seat.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Just a little decrepit from sports.”

“Did you play more than volleyball?” Questions Narita, genuinely curious.

“Yeah! Gymnastics, soccer, cheer, dance, swimming, and I was an equestrian for a while, too.” You tilt your head back and forth, “But I did gymnastics, cheer, and volleyball for the longest. Well, maybe horseback riding, too.”

“How long?”

“For which?” You turn to Nishinoya, who initially queried about the time put in.

“All of them.”

“Um,” you take a moment to think about it. “Gymnastic for eight years, cheer for seven, horseback riding for,” you tap your chin in thought. “Oh! I’ve done horseback riding and volleyball for fourteen or fifteen years. Stopped right as I entered high school.” Shrugging it off, you add, “You know how it is. Strain on the body and whatnot.” You wave goodbye to them before meeting the two boys waiting patiently for you at the doors.

“I,” Nishinoya lays his head in his hands, on top of the table, “I think I just fell in love.”

“She’s certainly more athletic than I thought,” Daichi adds with a nod.

“And flexible,” Tanaka thrums his fingers against the edge of the tabletop.

“I wonder if she –“ Ennoshita glares daggers into the libero, daring him to say something brash. Noya puts his hands up, beside his chest. “I was going to say, I wonder if she can do that thing where she grabs her foot and pulls it up behind her head!”

“Oh! I know what you’re talking about!” Hinata bounces in his seat, proud of himself for recognizing the move Noya was referencing. “But what’s it called?”

“It’s –“ Tanaka immediately stops talking, realizing he has no idea. A chuckle from behind them has Noya and Tanaka turning to face whoever was listening.

“It’s called a Scorpion,” Kuroo gives a deathly grin as he peers over his shoulder to look at them, “and yes, she can.”

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Honestly, I didn’t believe a single thing he said,” Semi states, the topic of the drama from earlier in the day arising. With everyone finally having a chance to gather, they decided to vent their own thoughts and opinions about what happened. Tendo snickers from his spot on the floor, laying on his back. He wiggles a finger through the air as if he were waving a flag. “I don’t know if I’d say I didn’t believe _everything_ ,” you gape at him, hand coming up over your heart. He grins as he catches your reaction in his peripheral. “(Name) seems sweet and innocent, but I know _just_ how kinky she is.” You roll your eyes as the other snicker. They don’t think much of his comment; they know how close the two of you are. They’re all sure he’s heard some graphic details of your sexual exploits. Until –

“Oh, zip it, Satori-kun! You were scared I had a second set of teeth that were going to leave you dickless.”

“Hey! We _just_ finished watching that movie! I was paranoid.”

“You were _fine_!”

“Clearly. I don’t think we’d be friends right now, otherwise.” You laugh from your seated position on the bed, taking a sip of your water. The smile you wore fades as you feel the multitude of eyes shifting between you to Tendo and back again.

“Wha –“

“You and Tendo,” Semi’s voice trails off as he looks from you to the Guess Monster, brows scrunched together in question. Tendo’s lip curls up in his signature, teasing grin as he turns to you. He’s giving you full reins of the situation, deciding not to say anything himself.

“I, um,” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter to physically display your unabashed confidence in the past-made decision. “Yes. I didn’t believe in the big deal of the ‘first time,’ but I also didn’t want to give that experience to just anyone. So, I figured, who better than my best friend?”

“Stupid, lucky lizard,” Goshiki mutters under his breath, running his hands over the rug he’s sitting on top of. Tendo just snickers to himself, head swaying back and forth as a tune plays in his head. Your face flushes as you remember that Ushijima is sitting directly beside you. A panic washes over you, worried how he’ll react to knowing you gave your virginity to his friend. In usual Ushijima fashion, he picks up on your silent shift in demeanor. He gently nudges you, making sure your attention falls solely to him. You don’t bother reading his face, instead looking him right in the eyes. There’s no hurt or malice in his stare, just simple acceptance. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He wouldn’t say it in front of the others, but he’s much happier knowing your first experience wasn’t Terushima.

“(Name)-chan,” you snap your neck in the opposite direction, now looking at the copper-haired setter. “How many people have you had sex with?”

“S-Shirabu!” He remains unblinking as your turn scarlet, embarrassment taking over. You’re not ashamed of the number by any means, but you never expected _him_ to have the gall to ask!

“Terushima’s is thirteen. So, if he’s calling you a slut, it better be higher than his.” Semi laughs, clapping the younger player on the back. His reasoning for asking elicits a gentle laugh from you, as well.

“Not even close. Only two.” Your lips part before quickly closing, only to decide you want to know the answer, and ask him, “how do you know Terushima’s body count?”

“He fucked with you. Of course, I had to do some digging of my own.” No one is safe from the answer he gives, everything bursting into a fit of laughter. A smile and soft chuckle even coming from Ushijima.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: all the sports mentioned are sports I've done. But, for the sake of the characters age, had to shorten the amount of time I've actually put into some of them.   
> 2: I know the scorpion isn't an impressive stunt, but it was always my favorite (aside from basket tosses).   
> 3: next chapter I bring you ..... all the mf fluff. 
> 
> Also, is anyone else rooting for a (Name)-chan and Oikawa friendship, or is it just me?


	7. Camp (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The final chapter of the training camp arc! Enjoy ALL the fluff that is littering this chapter.

Goshiki and Shirabu lasted another twenty minutes before heading off to join the others for practice. With just you, Semi, and Tendo around, Ushijima decided it was time to bring up a topic he had been pondering since lunch. 

“You need to come up with better coping mechanisms.” Even with how accustomed you had become to his sharp, direct way of speaking, he managed to surprise you this time. You cough, nearly choking on the water you had just taken a sip of. Tendo and Semi quickly shot their captain a look of disbelief, winded by the fact he was willing to have such a sensitive conversation in front of them. Semi more so than Tendo. 

“I - um,” he was right, you knew that, but you weren’t sure how well he’d take to the alternatives you had already considered. “W-what do you have in mind?” 

“What are other things that make you happy?” 

“Well, honestly,” you rub the pad of your thumb over your right wrist; across the Gemini and air tattoos stacked on top of each other. “Tattoos and piercings do.” Ushijima nods, not seeming to be offset by your answer. 

“What about when they aren’t viable?” You raise a brow at him, questioning what he means. “When you don’t have the money to get some. Or can’t get in.” Why had something so simple slipped your mind? Sports had always been a stress reliever for you but being so close to the end of the year, and managing for Nekoma, joining a team just isn’t sensible. But you don’t need to join a team to exercise. 

“I’m just going to focus on my health,” you spill. For taking a few years off sports, you’re still in good shape. Your cardio endurance could definitely be better, and you could stand to rebuild some lost muscle mass, but overall you’re healthy. What you really need to focus on is your eating habits. Something Tendo has already decided on, too.

“Maybe start meal prepping! I know you like cooking. And it wouldn’t hurt to eat something besides ramen.” A throaty grunt is all you can manage in response, preferring not to talk about how you’ve been surviving explicitly on toast and cheap packs of noodles. Whenever you made food to bring Kuroo is generally the only time you bother to cook yourself a balanced meal. A smile is quick to take place of your gentle pout as you turn to the vibrant redhead, “maybe you can send me some of your recipes, Satori-kun.” He nearly bounces in his chair at the idea, along with the simple pleasure of knowing you remembered his love for cooking and baking. As if you could forget, you used to go over to his parents’ house and watch him bake whenever the two of you weren’t passing a ball back and forth. Semi glances as the clock on the stand beside Ushijima’s bed, “movie night is starting soon. We should head over.” Semi and Tendo are quick to move from their spots and make way towards the bedroom door, but you stay in place when you notice Ushijima hasn’t budged. He’s staring at you, eyes intense and focused, like he’s reading you to discover every mystery the world has the offer. The other two boys decide he wants a moment alone with you and decide to venture towards Gym one on their own. You scoot along the edge of the bed until you’re seated in front of him, your hand coming and resting on his knee to anchor him back down to reality. Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he speaks, “I’m sorry.” Two simple words, yet they make you frown with a pang in your gut. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you weren’t alright.” 

“Oh, ‘Toshi,” your fingers squeeze against him, voice soft and gentle. “You have no reason to be sorry. I hid it from you, from everyone.” 

“I should have been able to tell.” You shake your head at him before climbing into his lap, your legs hooking around his hips. Gently, but with just enough force, you grab his cheeks in your hands and force him to look you in the eyes. “It is not your job to analyze my every word and behavior. You didn’t know, and that’s okay. I’m not mad at you for it, I won’t ever hold it against you. Please,” a single hand slides down to cup his jaw, “Wakatoshi, please do not beat yourself up over it.” His arms wrap around your back, pulling you closer into him. Silence is all you’re met with in response, but you know he agrees to you plea when his chin softly rests on top your head. With the position change, your hands slip down to his shoulders, thumbs stretching to gently caress his collarbones over his shirt. “We should get down to the gym, if you still want to catch the movies.” Ushijima grunts softly to convey his interest in attending, and you fully expect him to kiss your crown before pulling away. Instead, his hands move to slide under your thighs, lifting you with him as he stands. You shriek in delight, tightly wrapping your arms around his neck while hiding your face into the junction between his shoulder and neck. Too busy breathing him in and enjoying the way his skin warms your face, you miss how he smiles the entire time. Until he steps out into the hallway and stiffens. “‘Toshi?” 

“I should put you down. People may suspect -“ 

“Hm, I don’t care.” You place a kiss against the sharp edge of his jawline. “Unless you do?” Always a man of few words, he conveys his feelings with actions. He hoists you a little higher, squeezing your thighs with his large hands before continuing to meet with the other third-years. 

The gym has been made up with a plethora of blankets, pillows, and tatami mats. There are groups littered around, everyone mingling with friends they didn’t get to see on a normal basis. Every head turned as you entered the gym with Ushijima, still clinging to him like a koala. Tendo and Semi were the first to notice the way you shyly dug your nose into the side of Ushijima’s neck, clearly overwhelmed by the attention. Daichi shared a knowing smirk with Suga and Kiyoko, but quickly found himself looking to the group at the back. Kuroo was sat with Bokuto, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa. It had taken the Nekoma captain and Iwaizumi an entire hour to convince the pretty boy to join in for the movie night. There was clearly a spot open for someone in their group, and Daichi just knew Kuroo had it saved for you. He half expected to see the master of provocation scowling at the sight of his crush clinging to another, but all he found was a smile. Admittedly, Kuroo felt his heart sink to the furthest depth of the universe the moment he saw you and Ushijima walk in. But, despite his aching jealousy, all he could do was smile at you. As much as he wished you were his, your happiness was all he wanted. Even if it came from someone other than him. 

Ushijima looked to Tendo with a mildly scrunched expression, noticing there was no extra space with him and the ashy-haired setter. With a wiggle of his vibrant brows, Tendo pointed to an area in between him and where Kuroo’s group resided. Slightly off to the side, as to not be blocked by the lanky Shiratorizawa seniors or get in the way of the back group. Oikawa tried to hide the way he shrank down as Ushijima passed; not intimidated by his rival but trying to avoid falling into your line of sight. Ushijima didn’t spare a glance in anyone’s direction, focused exclusively on getting into place. Even as he squatted down and cozied himself up against the beanbag-like pillow, he never removed you. Once he finished positioning himself, you moved, turning so your back laid against his chest as the back of your head used his shoulder as support. His smile went unnoticed in the darkness of the room as he grabbed one of the surrounding blankets and covered the two of you. 

Suga checked that everyone was present and in position before finally starting the movie. Surprisingly, a horror movie started up. You had seen it before, being the horror queen you are, but still found yourself engrossed in it. You fully expected for the group to at least start with comedy but couldn’t complain about the final decision. No more than fifteen minutes into the movie do you feel Ushijima rubbing circles into your thigh from their position under the blankets. The touch is soft and comforting, but it just enough to caress the dormant arousal within. You wonder if he’s really going to do something so out of character, work you up while surrounded by your peers. What he does is completely unexpected, but not for the reasons you initially assumed. One of his hands moves to brush your hair behind your ear before his head comes to rest in your shoulder. “I’m here for you,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. As he continues to talk, you can feel the rumble in his chest; the vibrations from his ocean-deep voice before the sound curls around your ear with his hot breath. “I want you to be healthy, happy, and safe. If you’re not okay, neither am I.” It’s impossible to tell what’s burning more, your cheeks or your tear-prickled eyes. “Whatever you do, I will be here. Whatever you need from me, ask of me, I’ll do.” The hand on your thigh has gone motionless, his fingers just barely grabbing against the flesh. His other hand is pressed between himself and your lower back, his fingers working in circles to continue his act of affection. “I want you to know your worth. I don’t want you to continue on with thinking you’re not enough, that you don’t matter. None of us would be here if it weren’t for you, (Name).” It’s the most you’ve ever heard Ushijima speak, especially all at once without someone else to guide the conversation. You already know this is a moment you’ll cherish for life, because he’s going against his natural instinct in order to make you feel better. There’s a shuddering exhale against the side of your neck that alerts you he has more to say. It makes your chest tighten, the air around him suddenly feeling heavier. Not with a weight of uncertainty or scrutiny, but excited nervousness. Like when you’re waiting in line for a rollercoaster. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I know how I feel about you. You’re an inspiration, on and off the court. You’re selfless and one of the most caring people I’ve ever met,” his head turns, his lips ghosting the sensitive skin of your neck as he continues to speak, “I wish you could see how much you effect the people around you. How much everyone cares about. How much I care about you.” The kiss he places against your flushed, heated flesh is soft and almost cool in comparison to the rising heat of your body from his words. “I want to see you strive in everything you do. I want to see you overcome every obstacle in your path, even if you need help to overcome them. You,” Ushijima pauses to take a deep breath. The steady beat of his heart quickens, his own cheeks beginning the burn as the words he wants to say linger, unspoken, on the tip of his tongue. “You are more important to me than you know. No matter how much time passes, I will always be in your corner.” There was more to the confession, so much more he wanted and was finally willing to say. But he promised himself he’d let you come to him first, even if now was more than perfect for him to spill his heart out. Your hands moved to squeeze right above his knees, voice coming out in a harsh, shaky whisper. 

“Please,” he knew what you were asking him to do. 

“I still don’t want you to say anything until you’re ready.” You agreed to his command, bobbing your head to signal as much. You just needed to hear what he had to say, experience whatever feelings the words would bring to you. The three year build up to this point had almost been excruciating, always having a faint suspicion he returned your feelings, but never entirely certain. You needed to hear it to make sure what you felt wasn’t just due to the back and forth game of chase the two of you shared. “You caught my attention the moment I saw you in our gym. But when you played, that was when you had me. You are one of the most important people in my life, and no matter what happens, you always will be. I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.” The tears you had been holding back fall as the words roll off his tongue. An electric surge courses through your body, your chest tightening as your stomach flutters. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to say it back, but his request for you to wait until you were ready resonated from deep within and make you think better on it. You still had your own troubles to work through, mainly avoiding parties and finding better ways to cope. Of course, you have a plan in order, but following through with it is an entirely different instance. Would being with Ushijima while you work through it help you? Would the possible slip-ups make him resent you? Would you have any rebounds to your destructive behaviors with him to back you up? 

Securing his arms around your waist, he places a feather-light kiss to your temple, “You don’t need to say anything back. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” Having him repeat it settles the conflicted state you’d kicked up internally. The words are like a switch, taking you from a quickly spiraling mess, to serenity. With a small hum, you fully lean back into him, resuming your cuddly position from earlier. Neither of you speak another word, opting to silently bask in the comfort of each other while enjoying the movie. 

You had fallen asleep somewhere in between the last thirty minutes of the second movie. Ushijima’s legs were curled around your body, his arms keeping you pressed against him. He was leaning back, angled against the support of pillows. Your legs were draped over one of his own, turned sideways against his front with your head in the crook of his shoulder. He knew you were asleep by the way your breathing turned shallow and even, and how your limbs had gone completely lax. When the movie finally came to an end, he slipped one arm under your knees while the other supported you around your back. It took him little to no effort to stand with you carefully cradled against him. Tendo and Semi turned, catching his giant form grow from the corner of their eyes. He said nothing, only glancing down at your still sleeping form to convey his intentions to take you to bed. Semi smiled and waved before shifting around to get comfortable, invested in watching the next movie on queue. Far less reserved, Tendo hummed a playful tune, gracing Ushijima with a grin that spoke to just how much he had been paying attention to the captain and manager behind him. As much as the brunette wants to scoff off the teasing, his lips manage to twitch in the most minuscule form of a smile. The actions completely involuntary, which is enough for Tendo to realize the genuine sense of love flitting through his monotonous friend. With that, Ushijima takes his leave. His mind is completely blank as he carries you back to the dorm, working on autopilot as he finds himself too busy watching you sleep in soundless bliss. The only thing that manages to snap him back to his senses is the sound of a scratchy chuckle from outside his room. He blinks owlishly at Washijo, unsure of what his coach has found so amusing. “She’s happy,” he points out instinctively. “She’s normally a restless sleeper. It’s rare she’s that relaxed.” He smirks up at the star player, “the two of you must be working on your relationship.” 

“Yes,” Ushijima answers with a hushed tone, not wanting to disrupt you. He sees no point in lying, the old man has always been inquisitive, and Ushijima is not ashamed in his admittance. He waits for Washijo to make a sharp comment about being sure to get back to Tendo’s dorm after he’s gotten you settled, but something different comes from him instead. 

“Take care of her. She can be tough, but she’s a lot softer than she appears.” Ushijima fails to hold back his gruff noise of surprise, watching with widened eyes as the white-clad elder snickers and makes his way off to his own room. 

Once inside his dorm, Ushijima carefully places you on the bed. The shift in weight as he moves away causes you to stir, a nearly silent whine escaping your lips as a hand comes out to feel for him. “I’m just changing. I’m not leaving.” He quickly slips into a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to put on a shirt before he slips into the bed with you. “Would you like to get more comfortable?” It takes you a minute to register what he’s saying. As the question settles, you squirm, feeling the way your bra straps dig uncomfortably into your shoulders after being worn for so many hours. You sit up, removing your bra from under your shirt before wiggling out of your shorts. Ushijima takes the clothes from you, setting them in a neat pile beside his bed before finally making himself comfortable. Without thought, you cuddle up against him; one leg hooked around his as your head rests against his chest. His one arm wraps around you, the other holding your hand as it rests against his solid core. There’s a quick want that passes your mind, your fingers subtly twitch with the desire to trace his abs. The want to touch him is far weaker than your desire for sleep, and within moments of relaxing against the human stove, you’re asleep once again. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Semisemi! ~” the blonde peers over his shoulder to catch Tendo nearly skipping to the table, his food balanced perfectly in his hands. “Have you seen our lovebirds?” He takes a seat beside the setter, ignoring how the rest of the table gawks at him in disbelief. Semi shakes his head, lips curling to the right in a half smirk, “no, I think they’re still asleep.” 

“Waka-kun, sleeping past 6am? I don’t buy it,” the redhead scoffs before taking a bite of his breakfast. He looks up from his tray, glancing out the window on the other side of the cafeteria. “Oh?” His head quips to the side, the curious behavior making those with their back to the window turn. Ushijima is standing in clear view, his body positioned to head towards the front of the school, but his head is turned to peer behind him. A few seconds later, you catch up to him, only to double over with your hands on your knees. “I knew they weren’t sleeping,” but he wouldn’t expose himself fully. His guess as to what the two of you may have been up to certainly did not involve a morning run. 

“Fuck,” you pant out in between sucking in as much air as possible. 

“Too much?” 

“The first mile was great!” You stand, filling your lungs to the max before exhaling deeply, “the last two? Not so much.” He chuckles, his baseball mitt of a hand coming up to gently pat your head. 

“I told you there was a shorter path you could have taken.” 

“I know,” you start walking at a leisure pace, making your way to the nearest entrance of the school. “I was worried I’d get lost.” Ushijima’s brows furrow, not understanding how that was possible when you’d been in that area so many times. The confusion steeping from him only makes you giggle, “I don’t live here, ‘Toshi-kun. I’m not as familiar with the area.” The reality crashes around him like a fallen tree; this area isn’t your home. He knows that, he knows you live in Tokyo. But his memories have been filled with so many experiences the two of you shared, it feels like he’s sees you everywhere in Miyagi. All of the places he passes by daily have memories of you stitched into them. The thought that crosses his mind makes his heart ache with a need to have you closer. Even though he’s lived here all his life, it only feels like home when you’re around. 

The two of you managed to get through breakfast in mild peace, no one coming up to disturb the two of you, at least. It wouldn’t have mattered much if they did, as you both ate in silence. But you could see the million questions and scenarios running through Kenma’s mind whenever he’d glance up from his food at you. In truth, Kuroo was too busy making sure the petite male ate instead of playing his game to actually notice you and Ushijima had shown up. The least inconspicuous was Karasuno; not only was their entire team, including Kiyoko and Yachi, staring at you, but Nishinoya and Tanaka looked ready to fight to the death with the much larger player. Daichi and Suga simply smiled at you, even without all the information, there was a more intimate air that circled around you and Ushijima that they delightfully picked up on. You knew you’d be playing 21-questions with the multiple captains later over the, not so unexpected, development. 

With a few hours until lunch, when the hot pot would happen, nearly all the boys decided it was the perfect chance to get in some final rounds of practice matches. The third-year teams didn’t split, but instead decided to have their own matches against the other senior teams. They had spent two days helping to guide and strengthen the younger players and it was time for them to settle some bitter rivalries. You had sworn to sit on the sidelines and watch, partially exhausted from your run, but mostly just wanting to observe. You’d never be able to see them play each other like this again, and it seemed like a lost opportunity to be distracted by playing in the match. Up until someone just had to open their mouth. 

“What happened?” Daisho grins deviously at Kuroo, his mocking coo making your skin crawl. “Your little libero decide she could do better without you?” It’s a personal attack more than anything, trying to go right for your captain’s weak spot; you. It’s obvious to everyone, excluding yourself, how much he wants you. You don’t realize he’s hanging your feelings for another man over Kuroo’s head, immediately taking the jab literally; that you could play with a better team. Yet, as you strip yourself of the long sleeve you had on in order to play in your track pants and a tank top, you can’t bite back your own scathing retort. 

“Sorry, I’m not Mika-chan. My Captain is more than a lousy cheat.” He scowls, his quip only falling flat as you smirk and shoot him a wink, “I’ll tell her you said hi, though.” Using Terushima’s attack on you, outing you for flirting and hooking up at parties, has never worked so beautifully in your favor. Daisho’s entire face drops as he glances over to the second year on the court beside his own, questioning the truth behind your claim. Terushima clicks his tongue and looks away, but the minute combination of a knowing smirk and blush give away the truth. Kuroo balls his fist over his mouth, roughly biting at his lower lip to hold back the boisterous laugh building in his stomach. From the sidelines, Yamamoto, Tanaka, and Noya cup their hands around their mouths and call out a “RIP” to the snake captain. He mutters something under his breath about the ‘demon manager’ that you can’t quite hear, but don’t care to figure out what he said. You caught her at a few parties and the two of you chatted aimlessly, harmlessly flirting while discussing whatever random topic came up. Nothing of substance ever happened between the two of you, but you’d let Daisho stir in his own imagination until he found out otherwise. Moving into position for the game to begin, Kuroo quickly drank in your form from the corner of his eyes, unintentionally letting his mind wander to the darkest corner it could find. His lingering thoughts of the idea of you and another girl are cut short when he and Ushijima meet stares. Realization washes over the both of them, making each snap their head in the opposite direction. “ _I want to go home,_ ” Kuroo thinks time himself somberly, knowing his competitor was thinking the exact same thing as himself just a few moments ago. It should be illegal, how you live fully furnished, rent free, in his mind. 

You play through the match against Daisho’s team, even though your assistance wasn’t much needed to take the win over them. Dismissing yourself directly following the match, you make your way over to assist with getting everything ready for lunch. Practically all the managers are scurrying about the kitchen, organizing the food, gathering the supplies to take over to the first gym. The coaches had already moved the appropriate number of circular tables and chairs over to the gym, the rest was up to you and the other girls. Despite a few insistent offerings from some coaches to help, you assured them management was more than capable of handling everything, and that they should pay attention to their players. While getting everything together, you chatted with the girls, catching up on how classes had been going and what it was like to manage some of the other teams. The focus shifted to you no more than forty minutes later when Kaori smirked at you, “so, Ushijima, huh? I really pictured you being with Kuroo.” 

“W-what?” Your hands flew from organizing the cart with cooking utensils, fanning your scalding cheeks. “I-I’m not, ‘Toshi and I aren’t - Kuroo? Why?” Yukie and Kaori laughed at your inability to speak, too flustered by the comment. Kiyoko smiled to herself, not joining the conversation, but actively listening. 

“Come on!” Kaori grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to face her. “Are you telling me there’s really nothing going on between you and Ushijima?” 

“Well, I -“ you purse your lips, looking away from her while muttering, “I wouldn’t say nothing. But! But we aren’t dating.” 

“Not yet,” the other Fukurodani manager sings, knowing the inevitable was coming. “I really did think you’d end up with Kuroo, though.” You can feel your eye twitch with the comment. Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff, “why does everyone always say that?” In collective fashion, every other girl in the kitchen deadpans. Your scowl falls, arms going limp in front of your body to their reaction. Without officially answering your question, Kaori just giggles and shakes her head. 

“You’re too oblivious sometimes, (Name)-chan.” As they move on to another topic, all you can do is silently wonder why she thought that. You had made it clear you and Kuroo were friends after the first training camp you went to, so why did everyone see something more? 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“I feel like I’ve hardly seen you all weekend,” Kuroo comments as he takes a seat beside you at the table. There are a few seats taken, Karasuno and other Nekoma jackets over the empty seats to claim their place. You giggle, nudging him with your elbow, “we’ve spent all weekend together, Kuroo.” 

“Yeah, but I haven’t been able to get you alone.” 

“Oh?” That signature smile and lidded eyes makes its appearance, like a cat prepping to corner a bug. 

“Well, last weekend you did promise me we’d hangout together. Just the two of us.” For whatever reason, the teasing reminder makes you smile. 

“I did. How do you feel about taking a walk with me, after lunch?” 

“Sounds perfect!” He would have agreed to anything you suggested, so long as he got you to himself. He was still steeled in his resolve to talk to you about the events from the previous day, and maybe even - 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto shouts with his normal enthusiasm, taking a seat across from you. The tables are all designed to seat 8 people, and five of the seats at your own are already taken. His fingers thrum against the tabletop as he narrows his sights on you, a wild glint in his golden orbs. “So, you and Ushijima, huh?” You sputter, mouth moving aimlessly as you choke on any words. Kuroo fights back a glare at his friend, he’d been hearing the rumors all day; you were now officially with Shiratorizawa’s Ace. He’d rejected the notion all day, knowing full well neither of you had yet grown the courage to confess. It wasn’t unlike you to be touchy with people you liked, if they initiated it. It happened more if others couldn’t see or hear you, though. Damn tsundere. Finally gaining your composure, you respond with a voice much flatter than you planned for. It almost sounds disappointed. “We’re not dating.” 

“I don’t buy that,” another voice chimes before taking a seat. You hiss at the blonde as he takes a seat directly beside you, off to the left where Kuroo is on the right. Daichi sits down at the same time as Tsukishima, sighing under his breath at the way his underclassman challenges your claim. In between arguing with Tsukishima and Bokuto over your relationship status, Lev and Yaku join the table. There’s two open seats left and, as if looking for someone to save him from the nightmare he’s stuck in, Kuroo locks on to Iwaizumi and Oikawa. The friendly wave Oikawa gives Kuroo falls to his side when he finds you staring at him. Unaware of the war you’re waged in the middle of, he immediately assumes your apparent frustration is due to him. 

“Talk to her,” Iwaizumi barks in his ear quietly, shoving the other towards the table before walking towards the group himself. Oikawa swallows his uneasiness, along with his will to breathe, as he follows Iwaizumi. He almost takes a few paces backwards when your sight seems to focus, having previously been in a daze as Bokuto chattered about your -non existent- relationship. Your lips crack in an unimpressive smile, so small no one registers it. Before you even have a chance to greet the two, Oikawa calls your name. “Can I talk to you?” It takes a few moments, blinking mindlessly at him, before the request registers. 

“Yeah! Of course.” By the time you rise from your seat, he’s already halfway across the gym, keeping his quickened pace towards the doors. 

You follow him outside and towards the back end of the gym. It’s far enough to where no one can hear your conversation, but you’re still within view of anyone walking inside. “I’m sorry,” he stares before you even get the chance to ask what he wanted to talk about. “I should have said something, did something, to make him stop.” 

“Oikawa-san, what are you -“ 

“Terushima. I knew he was being a sleaze and I should have walked away. I shouldn’t -“ this time you cut him off, quickly grabbing one of his shoulders just as his voice grows pitchy. 

“I’m not mad at you. I don’t blame you for what happened. You weren’t the one being an ass.” He has to take a moment to let the words coil around his brain. He had spent so much time paranoid he had ruined whatever was forming between the two of you, too scared to confront your possible wrath, that he never even considered you may not be angry with him. His attention drops to the hand in his shoulder, eyes working up your arm until he finally looks you head-on. 

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“Of course, not! You didn’t do anything; I have no reason to be.” When his smile illuminates his face, you ready yourself for his usual charm to come shining through. But instead, his usual charm is left behind, replaced by his more genuine side. 

“I’m happy to hear! I really admire you, too, (Name)-chan.” The admission catches you off guard, but you smile and nod, nonetheless. When the two of you return to the table, you slip your phone from your jacket pocket and hand it to Oikawa, instructing him to put his information in. Iwaizumi says nothing, but Oikawa doesn’t miss the ‘I told you so’ that resonates from his forest eyes. 

You and Kuroo keep your plan to take a walk following lunch, strolling around the school’s campus with your arm locked with his. He can feel the absolute joy radiating off you like heat from a furnace, and he finds himself smiling in turn. “How are you holding up?” 

“Honestly, better than I thought.” You smile at him before looking ahead once more. “I thought everyone knowing the truth would be the end for me. I thought my friends would judge me and distance themselves. I was terrified you, Satori, and ‘Toshi would hate me. I never once thought that telling the truth would be so refreshing.” He nods along as you speak but stops when he realizes your biggest fear was that he’d hate you. His legs stop moving, his hand clamping around your forearm to keep you in place. You look up at him, startled by the sudden behavior. 

“(Name), I would never hate you for trying to deal with your mental health. I wish you’d have picked something healthier, but I’d never - you will never have to worry about me feeling anything less than love for you.” Your lips part to speak, but your tongue remains unmoving as one of his index finger and thumb gently grip your chin, coaxing you to remain with your eyes on his. This could easily be a love confession, his chance to admit everything he’s been holding back. But comforting you is far more important than his own feelings, and he opts to go a different route with his words. “You are one of my best friends. There is nothing you could do to make me hate you. I may scold you for your bad decisions, especially if they put you in danger, but I’ll never judge or think less of you because of them.” He leans over you, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead. “Your happiness means a lot to me. It means everything to me.” Kuroo chuckles as silence engulfs you, returning to his original position and beginning to guide you along the path the two of you had been walking. 

You recover from his words once you start moving, gently squeezing his bicep as a sign of gratitude before telling him, “I spent a while talking to Ushijima about new coping skills yesterday. I think we came up with some pretty solid ideas.” 

“Like?” 

“Continuing my collection of body mods, for one,” you snicker under your breath and Kuroo chuckles right alongside you. 

“How unsurprising.” 

“Ah, we came up with something else, too! I’m going to start running and weight training again. And eating better,” you mutter under your breath, scratching lightly against the apple of your cheek, “Tendo reminded me I eat like shit.” The hum Kuroo gives only broadcasts his shared belief with the lanky middle blocker. There’s a question on his mind he desperately wants to shoo away, but it continues to come back, like a bird determined to catch any crumbs it can get. 

“You and Ushijima seem to be getting a lot closer,” the conniving smirk he gives is forced, but you hardly notice, “anything you want to tell me?” There’s nothing he can do to fight the scorching pain in his chest at the way you smile so bashfully, a blush quick to form across your face. 

“Actually, there might be. He confessed to me last night.” That’s fine. He can work with this, so far. Ushijima confessed, nothing to get worked up over, you’ve had plenty of admirers. Kuroo clears his throat as a signal to urge you to go on, unable to find his words as he awaits the rest. “I didn’t say anything back, he doesn’t want to me until I’m ready.” 

“Trying to soften the blow for him, chibi-chan?” You wince as you realize that’s the first time his nickname hasn’t flustered you. You spent years pining over two amazing men, and in turn, you were happy only one of them returned the feeling. You couldn’t imagine the pain and torment of trying to choose between both. 

“Actually, I want to tell him how much I love him back.” You kick at a pebble with your next step, the corners of your lips pulled low as you stare at the ground, “But I’m not sure if I should. I’m just about to try to get help for myself. Even considered therapy. Is it fair to drag him in so close while I’m going through such a confusing time? What if I slip up and fall back on my habit of partying? What if -“

“Tell him.” Kuroo’s voice has never been so curt, so devoid of feeling. There’s always a twinge of excitement or happiness. Even when he’s mad, it resonates in his voice. To hear him speak so flatly makes your heart skip a beat in the most horrific of ways. “You should tell him. I really think he’d be able to help you,” a softness comes out with his words this time, he hadn’t meant to react so bluntly. Maybe the apathy in the moment was how he softened the blow to his own hopes of confessing. He won’t tell you not to admit your feelings, though. He won’t convince you not to be with someone you love, someone who makes you happy, someone he knows will genuinely be able to help you through the uncertainty of seeking help. He won’t put down a good man just to give himself a chance. 

“D-do you really think that? You don’t think I’d just be a burden to him?” 

“(Name),” Kuroo stops walking once more, looking down at you with hazel eyes that glisten in the afternoon sun, sparkling with the tears he’s holding back and guising under the notion of happiness for his friend. “You’ll never be a burden to those who care about you.” His happiness is just as real as the pain of rejection, so he clings to that like a lifeline, refusing to expose his broke heart in front of you. The smile you beam at him is breath taking, enough so that he could die right there with that image in his mind and never fret over another thing. You rise to your tip toes, just high enough to place an innocent kiss against the edge of his jaw. “Thank you, Kuroo.” 

**~*~*~*~*~**

You manage to make it with thirty minutes before the bus for Nekoma loads up and ships out, back to Tokyo. You find Ushijima in the gym with a few other players from Shiratorizawa, everyone else gone or in the process of finishing packing to leave. Shirabu halts the set he was preparing for Ushijima, tucking the ball under his arm and turning his attention towards you. There’s a resolve burning in your brightly colored globes that make Tendo and Semi nod to each other knowingly. Without a word spared, they round up the younger players and whisk them into the locker room, giving you the privacy, they felt was necessary. It worked better for you, that way. Tendo knew you’d be less likely to hold back without an audience. “I’m ready to tell you.” 

“I’m listening.” You keep silent, moving further into the gym, closer to where Ushijima stands, unmoving. He doesn’t rush you to speak, simply staring as you come close until, finally, you’re right in front of him. You have to crane your head back to look at him, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Not when your heart is beating out of your chest, when your stomach feels like it’ll float out of your mouth and away into the sky. You already know how he feels, but that doesn’t make the process of confessing any easier on you. It’s not until you take a shaky inhale that you manage to let the words flow freely, “Wakatoshi, I’m in love with you.” You don’t realize you closed your eyes until your lids flutter open like a curtain pulled across a stage. The sight you’re greeted with makes your knees buckle, threatening to give out under you. There’s a smile on his face like you’ve never seen before, so full of admiration, relief, and excitement. Honestly, you can’t recall a time he’s ever looked so beautiful. His hand cups at your chin, four of his fingers lightly resting against one side of your jaw as his thumb caressed the other. 

“Then,” his thumb moved, brushing across your lower lip as he leaned down closer. As he spoke you could feel his lips ghost across your own, “you’re mine.” With the little strength you could muster before melting against him, you closed the gap between you, melding your lips to his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious to keep up with the fics, or just want to enjoy my shenanigans, feel free to follow me on Twitter and/or TikTok.   
> Twitter: VictoriaWitch2  
> TikTok: @only_ocs
> 
> PS: I made a vid with some reactions to ya'lls comments cause they feed my barely existent soul.


	8. Snow (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a 17 page monster, so I had to split it up into two segments!   
> Also, we have a final (full) smut!

The dynamic change between you and Kuroo is like watching the Earth fall out of balance to the rest of the team. Their captain no longer teases you with flirty intent, captivated by the way your cheeks would bloom with color in response. What’s an unconfirmed secret to the rest is a painstaking reality to the ravenette. You’re in love with someone else, you’re dating someone else; he lost his chance. The change is barely acknowledged by you, who hasn’t noticed the way he no longer tries to cage your body against his or fluster you into a frenzy. To you, everything is perfectly fine; you talk daily, text when you aren’t near each other, and continue everything about your friendship with him that made you so fond to begin with. Kuroo refused to talk to anyone about the situation, constantly brushing it off with a claim that you just didn’t seem interested and he wasn’t going to make you uncomfortable. Kenma can read through the carefully crafted excuses like a human lie detector. He has his suspicions, but as far as everyone is aware, you’re single. You dodge questions about your relationship status with as much skilled effort as Kuroo blocks or Ushijima spikes. By no means were you ashamed of dating the powerhouse Ace, you cherished him and your relationship like a prized possession or priceless family heirloom. But the two of you had decided to keep the relationship under wraps until you grew comfortable in your new habits; he didn’t want to overwhelm you with so many life changes at once. 

It’s not until three weeks later that the Nekoma Volleyball Club learns the truth behind the universal shift; when you, finally, officially confirm that you are dating Ushijima. That’s when it finally crashes down around him, when the other shoe drops. Leaving the information in the dark meant it could be wiped away without trace if things didn’t work out for you and the golden player. Now, there’s no denying it or going back; you’re off the market and that’s the end of it for Kuroo. He masks his pain behind reinvigorated enthusiasm to win nationals, pushing harder at practice, and his determination to get into medical school by burying his head in books. It’s so easy to mask the sting of heartbreak when he’s in front of others, but every time he catches you smiling at your phone, he just knows it’s because of Ushijima and another crack rips through his battered heart. 

He manages to keep himself together, keep his emotions from bounding out of control, until the first snow of the season hits. Typically, whenever it would snow for the first time, you and Kuroo would go out the next day to play in the frozen world of white before warming back up together on the couch; a seasonal movie on the screen while you both sip hot chocolate. There’s a pulse of excitement in him that makes him get ready for school faster that morning, practically dragging Kenma down the street to meet you. He’s already planned what movie the two of you will watch tomorrow, along with everything else he has on a mental itinerary. When he and Kenma approach you, you wave at them. There’s already a smile stuck to your face, and he knows it’s not because of him when he sees your phone pressed against your ear. The grip he has on Kenma’s jacket sleeve tightens enough for the blonde to look away from his game just long enough to make out the look of utter anguish on Kuroo’s face. “Promise you’ll go out in the snow with me?” Neither can hear the answer but judging from the way you skip a step and squeak in delight, they know he agreed. “Great! I’ll be there tonight around 7:15!” It’s the first year in a while that Kuroo finds himself completely repulsed by the frozen crystals falling from the sky. He’s never been less enthused about the weekend. 

Much to his chagrin, spending the weekend wallowing in self-pity while imagining what the girl he was in love with was doing with her boyfriend, was not something his friends would allow to happen. The second practice came to a close, Kuroo left, not sparing a single word to anyone. Wrapped up in a conversation with Lev and Yamamoto, you didn’t notice your feline-like friend had even left. You were a little distraught to realize he left so abruptly, having wanted to talk to him about making plans to spend an evening together next week. It felt like forever since you had a moment to relax and goof around with him in just the company of one another. But, having little time to dawdle, you made your way home to pack for your weekend trip to Miyagi. 

Kuroo, on the other hand, was fully expecting to enter his empty home and lay in bed until he needed food or to use the bathroom. His phone was already set to ‘do not disturb’ in effort to avoid the plethora of texts from Bokuto and Kenma. It was so uncharacteristic for Kuroo to sulk, and the notion of it was enough for the silent setter to decide to try getting his friend to open up. Of course, after asking Kuroo why he looked so dejected and being met with a half-baked excuse, he let it go. He wouldn’t force Kuroo to talk about it. Bokuto was far less likely to be put off by Kuroo’s dismissive behavior, though. And if Kuroo though the salt-and-pepper-haired male was going to let him cry in the corner, he was a damn fool. 

“Dude,” Kuroo glared at his uninvited guest from over his spoon, “you can’t eat that to make yourself feel better.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?!” Bokuto reached across the table, ripping the pint away, “It’s not even real ice cream!” 

“Yes, it is,” he went to reach back for the frozen treat, but Bokuto only swatted his hand away as he read the nutrition information. 

“This isn’t even ice cream! It’s healthy, Kuroo! It’s freaking protein ice cream! And it’s not even made with dairy!” Bokuto looked to the onyx-haired Captain with blow-out eyes, “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“It’s not even mine! It’s (Name)’s. She always keeps some here.” 

“No,” keeping the pint in one hand, Bokuto snatched the spoon Kuroo was still holding on to with the other. He ignored the heated stare he received in return, making his way to the sink, and turning on the hot water to melt away the -fraudulent- ice cream. “You are not going to sit here and cry over her while you eat .... whatever that was.” 

Kuroo scoffs, dropping his chin against his knuckles, “it was ice cream.” 

“It was disgraceful.” After shutting off the water and disposing of the empty container, he bounds back over to the crestfallen male. Slinging an arm around his shoulder, he exclaims with far too much volume, “come on, Kuroo! You’re a catch! You’ve got plenty of babes who want to be with you! Just give one of them a shot, they’ll help you move on.” Seconds tick by to minutes of Kuroo sitting in reflective silence, making Bokuto begin to shift from side to side. Just when he starts to think he may have said the wrong thing, Kuroo lets out a prolonged sigh. 

“I know. And I want to move on but,” he tilts his head up to meet the bright, oval orbs looking down at him, “I just want to know.” 

“Know what?” 

“If she felt the same. I know it doesn’t matter because she’s with Ushijima, but, - _ugh_! I don’t know, I just -“ 

“I can call Yuki,” Bokuto begrudgingly suggests. He doesn’t agree with the notion of Kuroo knowing the truth, because it may just hurt him more, but he can understand the need to know. “He lives with her; he knows everything about her. He would know if she cared about you in the same way.” It’s the first time Kuroo has ever heard Bokuto speak so softly, and for a split second it makes him reconsider his quest for the truth. He can’t help himself; he needs to know. 

“Call him.” The nod Bokuto gives in return is solemn, knowing no matter what the pinkette says, the answer is only going to enhance the blow. But he does as Kuroo says, pulling out his phone and setting the call on speaker. He takes a seat beside Kuroo, placing the ringing phone on the table. The line picks up and as Yuki yells in the background, both boys find their faces flush. 

“ _Don’t forget your birth control, slut! I don’t want any mini Ushi’s just yet_!” 

“You can total hit me,” Bokuto whines to Kuroo, slapping a palm over his face. His timing couldn’t be any worse. 

“Bokuto-kun! ~ What do I owe the pleasure?” A smirk breaks out across Kuroo’s face at the way Yuki purrs Bokuto’s name, making a smile form on his friend. He’d gladly accept a moment of amusement if it meant he no longer had to see Kuroo in distress. 

“I’m here with Kuroo! He has a question he wanted to ask you, if you don’t mind.” There’s a moment of silence before Yuki sighs into the speaker. 

“Are you really sure you want to ask?” He already figured out what Kuroo would so desperately want to know, and part of him is tempted to hang up and refuse. But he finds himself in Kuroo’s place, knowing if he had the chance to discover if his crush ever liked him back or not, he’d be unable to refuse knowing. 

“Did (Name) ever have feelings for me?” Yuki sighs again, and Kuroo and Bokuto can just picture him running a hand through his hair in contemplation. 

“Yeah, she did. Probably as deep as you do for her.” Silence. Bokuto watches with rising dread as Kuroo’s head lowers until his chin is pressed against his chest, hair falling into his face. “I’m sorry,” Yuki quietly speaks out before deciding it best to end the call. Bokuto is frozen in place, watching as the statue-like figure before him begins the shake by the shoulders. 

“K-Kuroo?” The first stifled sob has the owlish boy tensing in place, every muscle pulling taunt at the realization his friend has started to cry. One of Kuroo’s fists slams against the table, his tears beginning to drip on to the lacquered surface. 

“Damnit!” His scream of devastation is soul crushing, but Bokuto is quick to react, not once flinching away. He bolts out of his seat, kicking one of the front legs on Kuroo’s to spin him from facing the table. All Bokuto can manage to do is wrap his arms around the heartbroken boy, accepting as Kuroo’s head presses into his stomach, where he continues to wail. Kuroo’s arms link around Bokuto’s middle, clutching the back of his shirt like it’s an anchor keeping him from washing away with his tears. “Why was I so stupid? Why couldn’t I have just told her?!” Bokuto says nothing, simply squeezing Kuroo’s shoulders tighter as he lets him vent out all his frustrations. 

It takes twenty minutes for Kuroo to calm down, and not once did Bokuto make any motion to pull away. There’s something that lingers in the air following the breakdown, like humidity following a rainstorm, but not quite as heavy. It’s light and refreshing, more like the way morning dew smells against the earth. When Kuroo finally lets go of Bokuto, a sniffle-riddled chuckle filling in the silence; Bokuto pinpoints the exact mood that’s taken over; acceptance. It may not be full acceptance, as he knows it’ll take Kuroo some time to move on, but it’s a start. It’s better than where he was just barely an hour ago. The two settle for putting on a movie in the living room, Bokuto frowning as he watches Kuroo instinctively grab for a large, fuzzy blanket in a soft shade of powder pink. He knows that’s your blanket, one Kuroo bought especially for you for nights you spent huddled up together. He almost wants to scold Kuroo for doing something that’ll only likely upset him again, until he sees the genuine smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his face away from the fabric. 

“It hurts not to have her, to know I lost my chance to be anything more than her friend,” the sincerity that comes from him as he speaks is a warmth that completely encapsulates Bokuto, making him smile in turn. “I love her, and even if I’m not the one who gets her, I’m still happy for her. Because I know Ushijima will treat her right, I know he’ll make her happy. And that’s enough for me.” Bokuto beamed over at Kuroo, his white teeth on full display from his shameless smile. His own all-encompassing rays of sheer happiness seeping into Kuroo, making the millions of cracks in his heart begin to mend. Within the blink of an eye, Bokuto had sprung from his side of the couch, tackling Kuroo into a hug. With his head on top of the Nekoma players, his arms wrapped around his middle to keep his arms pinned at his sides, Bokuto snickered out, “You’re so amazing!” 

**~*~*~*~**

Your book bag slapped against your back as you ran, arms outstretched. You had seen Ushijima over the crowd, his height easily giving away his location. He hardly had enough time to realize you were bolting for him, your short stature concealed by others on the platform until you were just a few feet away from him. Even running at nearly full speed, he hardly wavered when your body crashed into his, arms wrapping around his waist and your cheek pressed against his upper stomach. To anyone walking past, the two of you were an odd sight, especially with how the man had more than a foot of height over you. While you were smiling, pressed tightly against him, his arms were loose around you and his face completely blank. It didn’t matter to you, though, because you knew he was just as excited to see you as you were him. You finally released him of your hug, pulling back to smile up at him, “I figured I’d drop my stuff off before saying hi to everyone.” 

“No one knows you’re here. Except Tendo.” 

“I thought you told the team I was visiting this weekend.” 

“I did,” he started to guide you out of the station, into the cold of the evening. He kept you pulled close, knowing even with your layers, you felt the biting cold in your bones. “Tendo told them you’d be here early tomorrow morning.” You huddle against his side, grateful for the inhuman amount of heat his body generates. 

“Why would he -“ 

“I wanted you to myself.” If only the rest of your body could be as warm as your face turned following his words. Comfortable silence surrounded you on your walk back to the dorms, Ushijima only speaking again once the two of you stepped inside the warmth of the building. “We have practice tomorrow morning.” Despite the flatness in his tone, you could tell he was hesitant; worried about disappointing you. He had promised to play in the snow with you, after all. 

Smiling, you grab his hand and give a reassuring squeeze, “That’s fine, ‘Toshi. I don’t mind.” He knew you didn’t, especially with the honesty that laced your words. Truthfully, you could watch him practice all day and never grow tired of it. As if his prowess for the sport wasn’t enough to keep you focused, the way his muscles rippled and flexed with every movement sure as hell was. He couldn’t have been luckier, earning himself a partner who enjoyed the sport just as much as he did. Ushijima had made it well know he had no interest in indulging a romantic relationship, and it wasn’t just because he had spent three years caught up on you. He didn’t want to be with someone who would try to take him from his passion or wouldn’t understand when he put all of his time and effort into the sport. He needed a relationship with someone who would understand sacrifices would need to be made in order for him to progress; he would make it to the professional level. And none of that bothered you in the slightest, you’d happily change plans to fit his training schedule. After all, you knew he’d do the same for you when you started med school. 

Upon entering his room, you lay your bag, jacket, and other outer layers on the floor near the foot of the bed before collapsing back on to the mattress. He sits down beside you, watching as your closed eyes and relaxed expression quickly morph into a playful smirk. You wrap an arm around his chest, pulling him to lay back before hopping on top of him. His hardened expression only made you giggle from perched above him, hands ghosting against his lower stomach. Ushijima reaches back, grabbing his jersey you had worn a few weeks ago from off the headboard of the bed and throwing it at you. Caught off guard and busy trying to peel the material off your face, you have no way to stop him as he leans up, wrapping his arms around you before laying back down, pulling you with him. The chirps and excited shrieks you let out as you fall against him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine. 

“Clever trick,” you giggle against his skin, placing a kiss just below his jaw. Ushijima hums at the feeling, almost having forgot what it felt like to have you so close. His hands trail from around your back, coasting over the curves of your waist before coming to settle against your ass. The smirk you breathe against his sensitive neck is entirely out of your control, happily amused by how quick he was to go for what he wanted. Not that Ushijima has ever been one to deny himself of the things he desired. “Thought you didn’t want anyone to know I was here,” you tease, your butterfly kisses against him turning to nips and licks. 

“You’ll just have to be quiet,” his response is ended with a quiet groan as your teeth drag across the soft spot on his neck, right at the junction near his shoulder. The hands on your rear clench, squeezing and molding the supple flesh between his hands. You sit up, quickly stripping your shirt off and letting in fall to the floor. Rough hands glide across the plane of your stomach before cupping around the sides of your breasts, squeezing them together. Your hands rest over his, encouraging him to give a rougher feel. Ushijima sits up to bring his face between the two mounds, biting and sucking the swell of your right breast while continuing to grope the left. The sensation of his tongue and teeth against you has you panting until a particularly hard bite makes you mewl out for him. He switches to leave marks across your left breast as his hands work to quickly undo your bra. With how easily the clasps unlatch, you question if this is just something else he’s naturally talented at, or if he has far more experience than you gave him credit for. You’d ask about that later. 

Your hands thread through his hair, back arching towards him as his mouth devours one of your nipples, rolling the other bud in between two of his fingers. “Wakatoshi,” you moan, grinding down against the rising tent in his pants. He groans against you from the friction, never releasing you from his mouth. Ushijima pulls away with a wet ‘ _pop_ ’ before pressing his forehead into the valley of your breasts. 

“Sit on my face,” the command comes out with a deep vibrato that sends an electric shock down your spine and into your slick, heated core. You quickly oblige, removing your pants from on top of him. His hands wrap around your wrist as you thumb at the hem of your panties, ready to pull them off. He takes a moment to look at them, how the black lace around the outside lays beautifully against your skin, and the tiny daisies across the cotton center add a touch of cuteness to the alluring lace. He slips them down your hips and to your knees, where he finally lets you have control over removing them completely. The moment they’re off and discarded somewhere neither of you cared to look, he grabs you by the waist and drags you upwards until your center in aligned with his face. There’s a rush of scarlet to your cheeks as you peer down at him, waiting. You’ve had a man between your legs before, but he never asked you to sit on his face. Ushijima can see your trepidation by the way your legs are tensed and you keep yourself high above him, worried about suffocating him. He hooks his arms around your thighs, the muscles flexing as he pulls you down closer to his face. You can hear his barely stifled chuckle at how your blush begins to creep down your neck and your hands come up to cover your face. His fingers knead your hips as if they were a ball of dough, working to relax you before the flat of his tongue licks up the entirety of your slit. Your hands muffle the moan you let out from the sensation, encouraging him to continue. His tongue slips between your lower lips, dragging directly against your sopping core before thrusting his tongue inside you. 

“Ah, ‘T-Toshi!” He fucks you relentlessly on his slick muscle, his hands on your hips making you grind against his face. Ushijima continues to glide you against him with one hand, the other coming around to rub circles into your clit. Your moans intermingle with the obscene sounds of him sucking against your cunt. 

In effort to keep grounded, your hands slide into his tufts of tinted brown, tugging harshly as you feel your orgasm building. Pulling on his hair makes him growl, and for a moment you think he may not have liked it. 

“Do it again,” he orders through a snarl before diving back into your pussy, eating you like a man starved. You whine out, unable to keep yourself from grinding down harder against him for more friction, desperate for release, while yanking against his hair once more. He groans against you, his hips bucking up. Peering over your shoulder, you can’t help but to moan out at just the sight of him thrusting into the air; the idea of him being so impossibly hard and turned on just from pleasing you going straight to your throbbing cunt. 

“‘Toshi!” Your head drops back as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten to a breathtaking tension, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. His fingers abandon your clit, instead slipping inside your tight heat as his tongue flicks over your bundle of nerves. With how long his fingers are, it doesn’t take much for him to reach that spongy spot inside that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He wants you to cum, but he still needs to prep you without overwhelming you. He continues to flick and swirl over your clit, just enough to keep you at breaking point, but not enough to send you over the edge. Carefully, he pushes another finger into you, scissoring and pumping them in and out. 

“ _Fuck_ , ‘Toshi, _please_!” You’re a panting, moaning mess above him, on the verge of tears from need. Relenting to your request, he works his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion against the sensitive spot of your walls as he sucks on your clit, teeth just grazing the pink pearl as his wet appendage continues to massage it. Seconds later your vision goes white, body jolting as your release racks your entire nervous system. He continues to work you through it until you’ve cleared from the high. 

In your post-bliss reality, you’re quick to remember Ushijima is still painfully hard and in need of release himself. You dismount his face, quickly helping him to work off his pants and boxers. His cock springs out with a wet slap against his stomach, the head dripping pre-cum. He can see it in your face, you want to wrap your lips around him and take him as deep as you can. But he’s teetering the verge of self-control, and letting you do such a thing is not something he has the patience for. His voice holds a deeper bass than normal, clouded with desire, as he tells you, “lay down.” Positioned comfortably on your back, head nestled into his pillows, he moves to rest in between your legs. He strips himself of his shirt, now matching you in full nudity. You’ve seen him shirtless, you’ve seen his dick, but seeing everything exposed at once for the first time sets your body into a fit of excited tingles. He’s gorgeous, a physique sculpted by the gods to represent everything they envy and adore. As his hands rest against the soft flesh of your inner thighs, pushing your legs farther apart, you lock eyes. The calming tone of his olive orbs have been replaced with a haze of black lust, but even through the surge of need, you find nothing but love and affection staring back at you. In that moment, it clicks; Ushijima is yours just as you are his. Already aligned at your entrance, he leans down, your arms wrapping around his neck are your lips meet in a heated kiss of mixed arousal and pure adoration. Without breaking the kiss, he begins to slowly inch his way into you. It takes every bit of self-restraint not to slam into the hilt, the way you suck him in to your velvet walls completely sinful. Your fingers dig into his biceps, leaving a wake of red crescents behind. It wasn’t painful, but the stretch from his girth created a fullness you had never experienced before. A breathy moan escaped him once he was fully inside, a pleasurable tremor wracking his body. He laid with his forehead against the top of the pillows, giving you time to adjust. Your hips begin to move without thought, trying to fuck yourself onto him. The sensation of you rubbing him, desperate for the feeling of him massaging your inner walls, makes him grab your hips and pin them to the bed before pulling halfway out and slamming back it. The head of his cock brushes against your cervix and you just know he’s deeper than anyone else has ever been in your before. You cling to him, hips trying to buck under his grip to encourage him to continue. As much as he wants to fuck your lights out, watching you fruitlessly try to get what you want strokes the darkest parts of his desire. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Wakatoshi, please!” Your walls throb around him, dragging out a low moan of breaking resolve. He won’t give in, though, not until you do as he said. “Please, please, _just fuck me_! I want you so much!” Like a rubber-band tasked with too much tension, he snaps. His hips drive into yours with a brutal speed, ramming into you with enough force to break through an iron wall. You wail into his chest, the pleasure as he rubs over every sensitive spot in your gummy walls almost too much to handle. 

An emptiness overcomes you and you nearly cry out at the loss, Ushijima pulling out. He leans down and bites against your collar bone, sucking a quick hickey into it before ordering you on to your hands and knees. His commanding tone leaves no room for refusal, and like hell you had any intention of going against his wishes. He slips back into you with a groan, his head falling in between your shoulder blades. “Fuck yes. _Shit_ , baby, you feel _so good_.” Rarely do you ever hear Ushijima curse, and knowing his undoing is from the way your pussy grips him like a vice sends you into an unexpected orgasm. Black dots across your vision and you moan loudly into the cushions of white, trying your hardest to not be too loud. Ushijima grips your hips with a bruising force before power driving into you, the new angle sending him even deeper. It’s not long before you’re a crying, babbling mess beneath him. It’s impossible to tell if you should be apologizing to him or thanking him for the way he makes you melt so effortlessly. 

Ushijima can feel his end creeping up and the need to release is just as strong as his need to make sure you know you belong to him. His hand quickly fists in your hair, coaxing you to turn your head so he could see your face. “Damnit, (Name),” he groaned out, enamored by the tears staining your cheeks and the completely blissed our expression gazing back at him. He released your locks, one hand coming to your hip as the other grabbed the headboard. 

“Oh fu-“ you scream as he bucks into you with renewed passion, your voice carrying over the wet sounds of skin slapping skin and down the hall. Ushijima couldn’t care less if someone heard, far too pleased with the way you cried out to him in the throes of pleasure. His pace turns erratic before he quickly pulls out, fisting himself a few times before spilling out onto the curve of your ass. He watches as the ribbons slowly leak down to the back of your thighs, smacking your ass to make the thick liquid spread further. Your nose scrunches at the sensation and Ushijima just chuckles before climbing off his bed and retrieving a few tissues to clean you off with. “We should shower,” he states all so matter-of-factly that it almost seems like he has forgotten the euphoric coma he nearly put you in. Still, you find yourself nodding along, a residual stickiness along your legs that no amount of tissues will make clean. 

The shower took longer than planned, to busy kissing and staring at each other to clean up in a sensible amount of time. Your love for him only seemed to spike when, after stepping out of the shower, the first thing he did was grab a towel to wrap around you before worrying about himself. You slip into a clean pair of panties before sliding into bed with him, Ushijima only wearing a pair of boxers. Nuzzling your cheek against his chest, you smile. “I love you, Wakatoshi.” Using the arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you tighter against him before leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. 

“I love you, too, (Name).” The words make your body warm and your lips curl into a gently smile. You’ll never get tired of hearing those words. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

The moment Ushijima stepped into the gym to practice, Goshiki turned to face the wall, face as red as a cherry. Tendo only snickered, voice still tainted with sleep, “I heard (Name)-chan made it in a little early, huh?” Goshiki let out a strangled noise, his beaming blush shading in his ears and neck. Tendo and Goshiki had rooms in the same hall as Ushijima, leaving them exposed to the late-night adventure the two of you shared. Of course, it flustered the younger boy far more than it did Tendo, who seemed all too pleased with the fact you and Ushijima -finally- did the dirty. 

“Yes. You knew she was coming last night.” Tendo wasn’t sure to laugh at the unintentional innuendo or face-palm over his friends’ denseness. “Where is Semi?” 

“Sleeping, like a normal person,” the redhead yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Saturday practice was not something Washijo mandated, but Ushijima was never one to deny himself the ability to keep up and improve upon his skill. Majority of the team decided to show up, especially those who would still be playing for the Volleyball Club. Tendo, despite knowing his time in the sport had come to a close, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease Ushijima and thus decided to join. “Where’s (Name)?” His lips curled, far too amused by the way Goshiki squirmed at the mere mention of your name while Ushijima’s jaw tightened the slightest. The teasing lilt in Tendo’s question did not go unnoticed by the brunette. 

“Sleeping.” 

“Hm,” Tendo hummed before turning on his heels and walking towards the ball cart, “I’m sure she needs it. ~” Ushijima was tempted to reply and say that, of course, you did or else you would be awake. But he knew there was an underlying meaning behind the words, even if he wasn’t quite sure of what exactly Tendo was implying. 


	9. Snow (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more angst/drama.  
> A little more Bokuroo bromance.   
> And a lot of cuteness with the third years.   
> Also! Some spoilers (professions).

You arrived in the gym mere moments after practice ended, bundled in a turtleneck, cable-knit sweater. The friendly greeting you had on the tip of your tongue was never executed, Tendo spotting you the moment you were in the gym. “Good morning, (Name)-chan! Sporting a high collar today, huh?” Your cheeks puffed as you blushed, refusing to meet his tormenting stare. 

“Yes, Satori-kun. It’s cold out.” 

“I can’t believe we already made it to the first snow of the season,” Shirabu sighed, quickly making any expression you wore fall flat. “I miss summer.” Ushijima was quick to notice the way you deflated at the younger players words, making a faint step closer towards you. 

“(Name), what’s wrong?” 

“I’m a horrible friend!” You quickly blurted, hands slapping over your cheeks as shame claimed your being. In your excitement to spend the weekend with your boyfriend, you completely overlooked the fact is was the _first_ snow. You and Kuroo had fallen into the habit of enjoying it together, to ease the loss of summer. The two of you nearly spent the entirely of it together at the beach, both being helplessly in love with the water. “Kuroo and I have a routine of spending the first snow together! I-I completely abandoned him! I didn’t- I didn’t even think about it!” You continued to word vomit over your slip, berating yourself for being so blind to your friend. His behavior made more sense; you had ignored him, overlooked an important part of your relationship, due to getting swept up in the excitement of love. A promise you had made to yourself long ago was, no matter how much you cared for your partner, friends would not be left behind. And that’s exactly what you did to Kuroo. 

“(Name),” it was the third time Ushijima had called your name. This time his hand gripped at your shoulder, not tight enough to startle, but just enough to root you to reality. He waited until your eyes finally met his, “call him and talk to him.” 

“He’s going to be so mad at me!” Ushijima found himself looking to Tendo for help, completely at a loss as to what to say. He sighed under his breath, lightly shaking his head before coming forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Come on, (Name)-chan,” he began leading you out of the gym and back towards the dorms, “you know Kuroo-san isn’t going to be mad at you.” 

“Satori,” you whined, hiding your face in your palms, trusting him to guide you. “He was so upset before I left, and I never even considered why! I know he’s mad at me.” 

“Even if he is, you should call him and talk to him. I’m sure he’ll understand, we’ve all been in love before.” He nearly cringed after the words left his mouth. Not because they were untrue, but because he knew; Kuroo had been in love .... with you. It was as clear as night and day, yet you seemed to be the only person oblivious to it. And maybe Ushijima. In truth, he doubted the living tree noticed anything outside of volleyball and you. Still just as dense as he was tall. Just one of the many things Tendo loved about the Ace. Vermillion orbs shifted, examining you from the side as he slowly escorted you towards his dorm. Would it be wrong to tell you? Inform you that one of your closest friends had been pining over you? Maybe it would help you understand why he’d been so distraught over such a -seemingly minor- occurrence. At the same time, it could ruin everything and crack your friendship like a fragile work of art. Especially with you now being in a relationship. 

“ _Feelings are tough,_ ” he notes to himself with a small sway of his head. 

By the time you reached his dorm, you had worked up the courage to pull out your phone and call Kuroo. You paced the floor as Tendo laid on his bed, grabbing the nearest manga to read to distract himself from your conversation. More accurately, to pretend his wasn’t listening to every word the two of you shared over the phone. Sometimes he just couldn’t curb his own curiosity. On the fifth ring the line picks up, “Kuroo! I am _so sorry_! I didn’t realize -“ 

“ _Hmph_ \- hello?” The voice that comes through is slurred, muffled, and laden with a dazed confusion. Whoever answered was not Kuroo and was without a doubt a girl you didn’t recognize. “Who is this?” 

“Um,” coughing once to clear your throat of any surprise, “(Name), I’m Kuroo’s-“ 

“ _Oh, honey_ , I’m so sorry.” Even with the sleep riddling her words, her voice is easily heard over the speaker of the phone. You and Tendo look at each other with furrowed brows; what is happening? “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend until he said the wrong name.” 

“Hah!?” Tendo practically rolls off his bed in utter disbelief at what he’s hearing. Your face is stark white, your heart in your throat as you try to come up with an innocent meaning behind what she’s saying, desperately trying to avoid what appears to be the alarming truth of the matter. “W-what do you mean?” The nameless female sighs through the line as you shift uncomfortably. The thin thread of hope is all you can cling to, waiting with bated breath to hear the explanation. 

“I met him at a party last night. He said he was single, so I didn’t think hooking up would be a big deal, but he called out another girls’ name when we were together. I was too tired to leave and just brushed it off.” You want to ask why she answered his phone, where was Kuroo? But the only thing that manages to formulate off your tongue is a barely distinguishable, “oh.” She apologizes again, reiterating she had no idea he was in a relationship and that she wouldn’t have slept with him if she’d known the truth. You stand in the middle of Tendo’s room with your grip slowly loosening on the phone, blinking stupidly as your brain struggles to process everything. Tendo, overcoming his own baffled stupor, scrambles from the floor to you, making a move to grab your phone to end the call. He freezes in place, as if Death grabbed him by the throat with a threat to end his existence if he so much as considered making another motion. 

“Kuroo, it’s your girlfriend,” the female whispers, voice muffled by, what sounds like, a futile attempt to cover the speaker. 

“ _What_?” Nothing, but uncertainty drips from his question as he takes the phone from her and quickly speaks into it, “Hello?” The minute he waits for a response feels like an eternity, especially after he pulls the device from his face to look at the contact that’s displayed across his screen. 

“K -“ 

“Oh, _fuck_!” The line disconnects before you could get even his name out, leaving you and Tendo frozen together with him hanging off your body like a monkey dangling from a branch. Extended silence befalls the two of you, neither sure what to say or how to respond. There are a million questions to be asked, a thousand emotions to process, but everything holds to a steady sensation of nothingness. No thoughts formulate in your mind, no emotions overwhelm your senses, not even your heart spikes in rhythm; everything in a chaotically neutral state. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Oh, _fuck_!” Kuroo hits the end call button faster than he moves to make a block, his body alight with nervous jitters. The girl gawks at him, but Kuroo is quick to brush her existence off to the furthest corner of his mind. He darts from the bedroom, screaming for Bokuto as he bolts through his empty house, looking frantically for the owl captain. Bokuto trudges out of the kitchen, a glass a juice in one hand and a half-eaten banana in the other. “Bokuto!” 

“Kuroo!” He chirps back, the sound muffled by the food stuffed into his cheeks. 

“What is the worst thing that could happen?” 

“You saying (Name)’s name while railing another girl.” Kuroo deadpans for a moment before dragging a hand down his face.

“Worst scenario _following_ that one?” Bokuto ponders the question for a moment before a lightbulb sparks in his mind. 

“(Name) finding out!” Kuroo stares at Bokuto with a growing sense of morbid panic. He watches as Bokuto goes from smiling, proud of himself for seeming to get the answer correct, to quickly choking, stumbling back into the kitchen to set his drink down before it slips from his grasp. “How!?” 

“She called this morning! Ki- erm, Emi- uh,” he shakes his head, the name of his one-night stand is the last concern on his mind. “The girl answered and told her! She thinks (Name) is my girlfriend.” 

“I mean, I can get wh-“ 

“Bokuto!” The Fukurodani boy flinched, putting his hands up in defense. It was beside the point, but Bokuto couldn’t help himself from thinking it. “What the fuck do I do!?” There’s a long pause, the two just staring at each other as Bokuto tries to brainstorm while Kuroo focuses on not having a full breakdown. Finally, Bokuto speaks, his words slow and drawn out as if he’s still thinking things over, “We should,” his head drops in defeat. “We should call Akaashi.” 

“Oh, no!” Kuroo emphasizes his ‘no,’ dragging the word on as he frantically shakes his head. “It’s bad enough you know! It’s bad enough it happened to begin with! The last thing I need is another person knowing about it!” 

“Kuroo, come on!” His normal pitchy note returns as he whines, simultaneously pulling his phone from his sweatpants pocket. “Neither of us know what to do! Akaashi is smart! He can help!” 

“Bokuto,” Kuroo looks him deep in the eyes, gold reflecting back into hazel; like where the shallows of the ocean meet the depths of a drop off. “I’d rather die.” 

Not backing down from his stare, Bokuto adds with a shrug, “you probably will if Ushijima finds out you were thinking about his girlfriend while getting your dick wet.” 

“Call Akaashi.” Kuroo’s hands are pressed together in front of his chest as if to speak a prayer, his focus locked on the ground in heated debate on his will to live or die by Ushijima’s hand. Or yours. There’s a fair chance that, one way or another, you’re going to ring his neck. Without missing a beat, Bokuto dials the setter, his foot tapping against the floor impatiently as he waits for him to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long. 

“Yes, Bokuto?” Akaashi’s voice is flat, but there’s no tinge of annoyance. 

“We need your help.” 

“Who is ‘we’?” 

“Okay, really, Kuroo needs your help.” Bokuto places the call on speaker, waving for Kuroo to speak as Akaashi remains silent. Bokuto knows he’s just waiting to hear the tragedy before deciding if he’ll be of any use in this situation or not. He won’t agree to giving his two cents if it’s something completely beyond help. Kuroo sighs before going over the entire ordeal with Akaashi, only grimacing once he hears the younger male give an extended sigh at the finish. 

“You have two options. You can completely confess and just admit everything. Or, you can tell her your sexually interested in her. Either way, some form of the truth is going to be required. Personally,” Akaashi pauses as he considers his next words, “I’d go with the second, if I were you. It saves you from having to tell someone, who is already spoken for and unlikely to return your feelings, that your emotions run deeper than lust.” There’s another pause and Kuroo goes to speak, but Bokuto holds up a hand for him to wait. He knows Akaashi still has more to say. “Lust can be overlooked. To be honest, it’s kind of shallow, and knowing (Surname)-chan, she won’t take offense to it. If you tell her about being in love with her, well, that may not be taken as lightly.” 

“Should I,” once more, Kuroo had to clear his throat. He’d never found it more difficult to speak than he did in this moment, “should I call her now or?” 

“I’d wait until she’s back in Tokyo and you can talk in person.” He hates the idea of waiting so long to confront the situation, but he knows Akaashi is right; he needs to wait to talk to you in person. Besides, the two of you could use the time to calm down, talking while worked up won’t do any good for the already uncomfortable situation. Bokuto thanks Akaashi for the advice before ending the call, his eyes trained on Kuroo’s slowly crumpling form. He knew this had to be the worst weekend of his life, and there’s no easy way to overcome any of the hardships he’s faced in a simple matter of barely sixteen hours. He says nothing as he catches the blonde girl creep past, Kuroo not noticing as his back was to her, clearly having decided it was well past her point of escape. The two males remain in silence until they hear the front door to Kuroo’s home softly shut. 

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto’s voice is quiet, dropped low in the signature sign of his mood depleting. He’s met with genuine perplexity from the noirette, his dark brows scrunched with a lack of understanding swirling in his gaze. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have suggested we went out last night. I just thought it would help, I didn’t know I’d make everything worse.” 

“Bo!” Kuroo practically leaps to get directly in front of his friend, both of his hands coming up to grab at his shoulders. He gives a shake to his airhead, forcing him to focus on what he has to say. “None of this is your fault! I had a blast last night! This morning’s mess is because of what I did, on my own. You can’t take any blame for that!” 

“If I hadn’t suggested we go out and drink, you wouldn’t have -“ 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he let out a nervous chuckle, “there’s a chance that could have happened at any point in time.” Bokuto still wore a pout, not entirely satisfied with the answer he was met with. Clapping his shoulder and throwing up a wide grin, Kuroo went on, “Seriously, Bo. Last night was amazing. I’m happy to have you as my best friend, I couldn’t ask for anyone better.” It took a moment for the words to sink in, to really settle, before Bokuto finally smiled and pulled Kuroo into a tight embrace. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Telling Ushijima what happened was something you and Tendo both agreed would not be of the best interest. Not until you had a chance to talk to Kuroo and find out more in exactly what went down. From there, you could decide if it was something serious enough to tell Ushijima about, or if it was easier to let the situation just die. 

You giggled, ducking behind the barrier you, Semi, and Goshiki had built to avoid a snowball from Tendo. 

“It’s not fair for them to be on a team,” the first year sighed, peeking around a corner to watch as Tendo, Ushijima, and Shirabu appeared to be making a plan. You only giggled more, elbowing him to bring his attention to you, “Aw, come on, Goshiki-kun. You’re going to be the next ace; you can take him.” Semi could only earnestly chuckle as the first year turned beet-red, trying to hide his reaction by turtling into the scarf he wore. 

“Cease fire!” The ash-blonde called out with a laugh, watching as the self-proclaimed future ace continued to curl in on himself. He stood from behind the snow mound you had built together, hands up in a symbolic offering of peace. “Bowl cut has a boner to nurse.” 

“Oh my god,” Goshiki mutters breathlessly to himself, hands coving what little exposure of his face was left. 

“Oh?” Tendo called back with a snicker, “he start thinking about all the noise (Name)-chan kept making last night? ~”

“You’re evil!” You called back to him, watching as steam practically started to billow out of the boy. Admittedly, it was hilarious to watch him clam up so much. He was always so cool and confident on the court, always eager to see if anyone saw him make decent plays. 

“Thank you, (Name)-chan! I do love it when you compliment me!” You groaned, aggressively rolling your eyes before a sinister grin took over your features. You quickly packed together a tight ball of snow, bouncing up to your full height and pelting it across the corridor. “End of cease fire!” Your voice rang out just as the sphere of white connected with Tendo’s chest, making him sputter in surprise. Semi laughed before quickly ducking down, avoiding an attack from Shirabu. 

The onslaught continued for another hour, until everyone was frozen to the bone and unable to bear another moment in the cold. Once inside and stripped of the wet clothes, you, Tendo, and Semi all reconvened in Ushijima’s room. You sat on the bed, huddled between Ushijima’s legs as Tendo and Semi sat comfortably on the floor. Everyone had changed into pajamas by now, eager to curl up with some hot chocolate and relax. The four of you, more like three, as Ushijima still only adds in his comments where he feels needed, chat about graduation coming up. It feels so far away, but at the same time, it’s creeping right around the corner. The talk of leaving high school and moving on to the next steps of your lives in bitter-sweet. There’s so many friends and memories you’ve all grown so fond of that leaving them behind feels wrong. You find yourself thinking of Kenma, Lev, and Yamamoto the most. Back and forth you all share stories of the underclassmen from your teams, laughing and rolling your eyes at their antics. Aside from the third years in the room with you, you can’t help the nagging feeling of the others you’ve grown close to. Karasuno, Fukurodani, and even Aoba Johsai. As Semi and Tendo go back and forth about their plans following graduation and their predictions on where others will be, you create a group chat with just the third years of your favorite teams. 

**_(Name)_ **

_I’m with the Shiratorizawa third years! We’re talking about after graduation plans and it made me miss you all. Group call?_

Within ten minutes of sending out the text, everyone has responded with some confirmation to the idea. You smile and quickly start the call, amazed to see how many people answer with a video call rather to a simple voice chat. You opt to turn your own camera on, the imagine clearly displaying you and Ushijima. Despite being in the same room, Tendo and Semi both open the call on their own devices. “(Name)-chan! Great to see you again!” 

“You, too, Dadchi!” You squint a little before clicking on his image, enlarging it to see better. “Are you at practice?” 

“Don’t you know it,” Suga grumbles with a poorly concealed smile of annoyance. “Hinata and Kageyama wanted to keep going.” 

“Shocker,” you snicker lightly, “tell them I said hello.” Daichi is the one to follow your request, and you can hear the two loudly exclaim their own greeting in return. Asahi chuckles, shaking his head. Judging by the window behind him, painted walls, and the slouch in his position, he’s at home. Probably in his room, enjoying the peace and freedom of not having to babysit the quick-attack duo. 

“Manager-chan! ~” Oikawa’s happy chirp and exuberant smile quickly die the moment he spots the hunk of muscle behind you. “And Ushijima.” 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima greets, voice clipped and curt as usually. A small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you shake your head at the two of them. 

“ _They’ll get over their rivalry, eventually_ ,” you tell yourself, certain in the idea. Bokuto is the next to join, but you can tell he’s not at his house of anywhere close to it. You spot the layout of the living room he’s in, most notably, the thick, fluffy mass of millennial pink draped behind him. The second he realizes his image is projecting, he perks up, rapidly waving his hand and giving a loud exclamation of his infamous, “hey, hey, hey!” 

“Hi, Bokuto-kun! And Kuroo,” you can’t fight the anxious blush that creeps up your cheeks as you acknowledge the unseen male. Bokuto is obviously at his house, meaning your Captain is lurking in the background. Bokuto pans the phone to face Kuroo, who is seated on the opposite end of the couch. Trying to be as casual as possible, he passes a glance to the screen and waves, his mouth pulling into a poor excuse of his normal grin. The urge to grimace is strong between you, Bokuto, and Tendo. To everyone else he seemed normal, but the three of you can read the waves of uneasiness coming off him like LED headlights. “So!” Recovering from the mostly unnoticed awkwardness, you shimmy in place, sitting up a tad higher. Even in doing so, your head still rests just below the crook of Ushijima’s shoulders, more-so centered perfectly between his pecs. “Graduation is only a few months away. What’s everyone planning for?” 

“The big leagues!” Bokuto cries out in a mock announcer voice, pumping his fist excitedly as he does. His answer elicits a few chuckles in response before Tendo answers next, “I’ve got my eyes set on culinary school.” 

“So, you are going to pursue it?!” You practically leap off the bed as you look down at the redhead sprawled out across the carpet. He just grins and nods with a soft, singsong hum. Tendo was already so skilled in a kitchen, you had hoped he would make use of the talent. You squeak in delight, gently bouncing in place. “What about you, Iwaizumi-chan?” 

“Hm?” His eyes return to the screen, clearly having been distracted by something. “Oh. I plan to go to university. I want to become a trainer.” 

“A perfect profession for you, Iwa-chan!” 

The green-eyed male grunts before asking, “Thanks. What about you, Shittykawa? You’ve been quiet about your plans, even to me.” 

The heartthrob brunette only hums as his head dips to one side, “I’m still thinking about it.” 

“You don’t need to.” Oikawa’s eye visibly twitches as Ushijima’s interjection. 

“Oh? Why’s that?” There’s a snippy bite in his question, as if he’s just waiting, daring his long-term rival to say something infuriating. 

“Your focus should be volleyball.” Everyone on the call seems to freeze, even those not displaying their picture can be heard holding in a breath. It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means, and even Oikawa seems to register that it’s the closest thing to a compliment he’ll receive from the earth-toned player. His cheeks puff the slightest, lips pursing as he looks off to the side while muttering a barely recognizable, “thanks.” 

“What about my crows!?” You lean forward, unaware of how the position presses your ass firmly against Ushijima’s crotch. He’s quick to notice it but makes no noticeable sign to show it. “Where will your wings be carrying you?” 

“University for me, too. I want to be a teacher.” 

“What age students?” 

“Elementary.” 

“Aw!” The information makes you gush before teasingly calling out, “Sugamama for life!” The silver-haired softie only chuckles, accepting your playful praise in stride. 

“Alright, Dad! I’m looking at you next!” 

“I haven’t decided,” Daichi nervously laughs out, gently scratching at his cheek. “I have a few things in mind but haven’t settled on anything.” 

“We’re waiting on you, Maneazu,” Bokuto sings, head swaying from side to side as if a song is playing in his head. 

“University. I want to study design.” 

“Huh,” Oikawa’s face contorts into something between perplexed and disbelief, “beard-kun is into fashion. I would have never guessed.” 

“Shittykawa!” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Instinctively, he recoils, mentally prepared for his best friend to hit him upside the head, even though the two of no where near each other.

“You’re awfully quiet, Rooster head,” Daichi chimes in with a teasing smirk, adopting Hinata’s nickname for the Nekoma Captain. Bokuto turns his phone to face Kuroo once more, who is noticeably closer then when he was first shown. While he cracks an honest smirk this time, he makes no move to answer. As if to extend an olive branch and prove you have no hard feelings towards him over the incident earlier, you contribute with, “Kuroo and I are going to med school together!” He doesn’t let his surprise at your response go noticed and instead offers a teasing ‘tsk’s at you through the camera. 

“Entrance exams are coming up and we still need to study for them.” 

“I know, I know! We’ll start when I get back home.” No one sees the reassuring smile Bokuto flashes his wild-haired friend from the opposite side of the phone, pleased at how nothing seems to have changed between the two of you despite the shenanigans from earlier. The rest of the conversation flows seamlessly, much like the discussion you had with Semi and Tendo earlier where everyone just started sharing stories of their favorite memories from senior high. The call lasts another hour and a half before everyone decides to call it a night, but Oikawa sticks around until it’s only him left. 

“Ushiwaka,” you pan the phone up to capture Ushijima’s face as Oikawa calls out to him. “Be nice to (Name)-chan, she’s a good person.” He blinks once, twice, three times before glancing at you and then quirking a brow at Oikawa’s face on the screen. 

“I am nice to her. I love her.” Even if you’ve heard him say it before, having him tell it to someone else so matter-of-factly, as if there were nothing else that made sense in the world, made you feel like you could spit your heart up. Oikawa smiles with a quiet “huh,” before wishing you a good night and ending the call. Semi and Tendo had left after they exited the group, deciding to head to their own rooms to get ready for bed. Leaning over to put your phone on Ushijima’s bedside stand, you feel a distinct hardness press against your backside. 

“Oh?” Ushijima smirks to himself before looping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him once more, tantalizingly grinding himself against you. A breathless moan escapes you at the sensation, “want me to take care of that for you?” 

“I want to take care of each other,” his breath hits the back of your neck, the words sending a pulse of want through your body. But as much as you want to, you know it won’t happen. You turn around in his lap, facing him as you rest on your knees between his thighs. 

“As much as I would love that, it can’t happen. But I’m more than willing to make you feel good.” 

“Why?” You know the question is directed at the first half of your statement, and you can’t help the airy laugh that flows off your lips. Running your hands up his chest, you answer hotly, “because my boyfriend has a giant cock and fucks like a feral animal. It’s going to take me a little while to adjust.” The words send a jolt of heat through him, but he just smiles and ignores his throbbing desire. Wrapping both arms around you, he lays back on the bed. 

“Then I’ll wait until you’re ready.” 

“‘Toshi, I can -“ 

“It’s better when I know you can feel good, too.” His selflessness only makes you fall for him more, burying your face into his chest with a content sigh. 

“I love you, Wakatoshi. So, so much.” 


	10. No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!! Depictation (non-graphic) and mentions of rape.

“Do I want to know?” Kenma’s voice carried no interest in his question, but you knew better than to trust his tone. If he bothered to ask, it was because he was genuinely curious. Without much thought, reacting off your trepidation of discussing the event from the weekend, you offer a curious hum, as if you didn’t hear him. Kenma sighs to himself, and you see from the farthest corner of your vision as he fiddles with his handheld before slipping it into his pocket. 

“ _Oh, he’s serious_ ,” you unconsciously worry along your lower lip. This is clearly something the petite setter isn’t going to drop. 

“You and Kuroo have walked to school together, every day, for the past three years. The only time you’ve walked separate was if you were running late. And even then, he’d wait as long as he could for you.” Kuroo was never one to be late, but he would risk tardiness if it meant starting the morning with you. The latest he’d ever walk into class was just thirty seconds shy of the bell ringing, and you would dart in a minute after he arrived. 

Kenma looked over at you, watching as your ocean orbs shifted rapidly, the gears in your brain moving at hyper speed. Kenma was observant, painfully so, and you knew that; you knew there was no way he hadn’t noticed how things had changed between the two of you. He brushed Monday off, Kuroo claiming his alarm went off late and would be cutting it close enough. Tuesday Kenma started to grow suspicious, Kuroo coming up with another excuse to avoid walking with the two of you in the morning. This morning he texted your group chat saying he had woken up ungodly early and decided to get ready and head to Nekoma early. Being a year below you two, he couldn’t see how you worked together in classes, but he noticed how neither of you would look at each other while speaking. How Kuroo would avoid speaking to you directly at lunch, unless it was explicitly related to volleyball. 

He had hoped his beginning segway would be enough to elicit some information from you, but you remained unengaged, so he continued. “There’s something going on between you two and it’s bothering me. I,” he fidgets slightly, beginning to pull at the edge of his jacket before tucking his hands away in his pockets, “I want to know what’s going on. I don’t like seeing the two of you so at ends with each other.” Groaning, you drop your head in guilt. Not once did you expect the uneasiness between you and Kuroo to upset Kenma, but it didn’t come as much of a surprise. As little emotion as he showed, he had an enormous heart, especially when it involved you and the human rooster. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“I want to know.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself in effort to give Kenma the Sparknotes version of the dilemma. “Kuroo hooked up with a girl over the weekend. When they were together, he,” there’s a soft growl that resonates from the depths of your chest, flushing as you tell him, “he called her by my name.” The small squeak and lowering of his eyes are enough to say Kenma is having second-hand embarrassment. Of the many scenarios in his expansive mind, _that_ certainly was not one of them. “I’m not mad at him! It’s just,” you look ahead, watching as the gates to the school slowly creep into view. “I didn’t think he thought of me like _that_.” 

“It’s obvious,” Kenma blurred out with no enthusiasm. You simply shrug, not inclined to feel the same. “He always flirts with you, touches you. Kuroo lives to make you blush.” 

“I never thought anything of it, though. He loves to get a rise out of people, you know his nickname. So, I just always assumed it to be just that.”

Kenma grunts, pausing for a second as the two of you finally reach the archway of the school grounds. “You should talk to him.” 

“I -“ he can hear the wavering uncertainty in just the breath you took before speaking and quickly adds, “he’s probably just as embarrassed as you, if not more. Talk to him, work through it. You owe it to each other. To your friendship.” In the longevity of his silent behavior, you often forgot how wise Kenma could be. It showed in his ability to strategize for volleyball and his games, but with his inept social skills, it seemed like he’d be far less inspiring. All you can do is smile and nod, his words reinvigorating you with the same desire to settle things as you had on Saturday night. 

When you enter the classroom, Kuroo is sat in the last row, tucked away at the corner desk as he had been since Monday. Typically, the two of you would sit closer to the front, ensuring less distractions from the lessons. You sauntered you to the student sitting beside Kuroo, flashing a to-die-for smile as you coyly brush a few loose waves out of the way of your face. “Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here instead?” 

“N-not at all!” The girl practically leapt out of the seat, gathering her bag from the floor, and moving to the next available seat two rows up. Kuroo refused to so much as look in your general direction, head turned awkwardly to the side to look out the window. You sat down beside him, keeping a charming expression as you hissed out the corner of your mouth to him, “Kuroo Tetsurō, you are going to talk to me one way or another.” The sound of his full name made him straighten up; you hardly ever used it to address him. Finally looking to you, he was met with the faux giddiness you wore to keep from raising any suspicion. He was half expecting you to go full mantis and bite his head off then and there, but when you turned to meet his stare, there was nothing but warmth and concern radiating from you. “I hate avoiding each other.” 

Kuroo sighed, slouching slightly in his seat as he relaxed, “I know. I do, too.” 

“Could we talk at lunch? We can find somewhere private.”

He couldn’t fight the minuscule smile that pulled at his lips and he nodded, “yeah. That sounds good.” Neither of you were looking forward to the conversation, but you both knew it was something that needed to be confronted. You saw each other too often and we’re far too close to keep the charade up. Although, if it were up to Kuroo, he would have fought tooth and nail to go at least another week before even considering it. Kuroo wanted to talk to you, desperately; not doing so was like going against the natural order or life. But there was still that nagging guilt and anxiety chipping away at him, making him imagine all the worst-case scenarios that could unfold from just having the conversation. Would you be furious with him, would you feel betrayed by the fact he viewed you in such a lewd way? Oh, that was the worst part about it. Pretending it was just a sexual attraction when his interest ran so much deeper. It felt dirty, acting like he just wanted to sleep with you when, in reality, he was so deeply in love he’d sacrifice anything for you. He couldn’t tell you that you were the only girl he wanted; the only person he wanted. Worst of all, he knew you’d try to convince him that there were plenty of girls for him to have a meaningful relationship with, but in reality, that just wasn’t the case. Kuroo is attractive, he knows that, but his personality tends to be something that puts a lot of people off. One-night stands were easy, they didn’t have to know the extent of his ability and joy of provoking people. But he wasn’t like Oikawa, he didn’t have a flock of girls swooning over him, begging to be with him. Could he find a girlfriend? Sure. He’d done it quite a few times, but they never lasted. In the grand scheme of things, he’d sacrifice a lung to avoid having the conversation, but having you confront him about it eased the tension building in him. It gave him the confidence to believe that you weren’t angry with him, but just as embarrassed as he was, instead. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

By the time lunch rolls around, Kuroo has calmed down exponentially. The boiling feeling that had taken residence in his veins for the past few days had subdued to a mild simmer, something just enough to make him fidget when he saw you approaching. He had managed to sneak off to an empty classroom and texted you which he was in. He felt completely at ease until your small figure popped in the doorway, triggering the sensation of millipedes under his flesh. You merely smiled at him, waving slightly before sitting at the desk beside him. Despite the silent rumbling in your stomach, the thought of attempting to eat makes you stick your nose in the air. You wrack your brain for any semblance of a word, but you come up blank. Fortunately for you, Kuroo manages to choke out a strangled noise first. The nervously charged groan quickly morphs into an exasperate sigh before he blurts out, “I’m so sorry about Saturday.” 

“I- _um_ \- it’s, it’s okay?” The questioning way you respond only makes the two of you fall deeper into despair. You look down, watching as your fingers flit over the black skirt you wear. “I-I guess I’m just curious as to why?” Kuroo raises a brow at you, confusion written across his face. Your index and thumb pinch at one of the pleats in the uniform bottoms, following it from top to bottom. “I mean, there’s a lot of reasons that could have happened.” You genuinely wanted to believe anything other than the obvious, mostly to spare yourself the humiliation of knowing you were too oblivious to notice you and Kuroo harbored similar feelings for each other. There was a part of you that didn’t want Kuroo to like you in that sense, or anything close to it, because it would only bring on a wave of ‘what if’s’ you didn’t want to face. You were more than ecstatic to be with Ushijima, and any admittance from Kuroo wouldn’t change that, but it was still a reality that felt like too much. He can only sigh, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck, “Come on, (Name). Don’t make me say it.” You can hear the desperation hanging on his words, the unspoken ‘please’ dangling just on the edge of his lips. Defeated by your silence, he relents, “I think you’re hot, so I ended up thinking about you when I was with her.” He refuses to look at you as he speaks, petrified of seeing the expression on your face. Too busy staring down at his lap, he misses the way your eyes dart to the side as you tug your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Kuroo, I’m not mad at you,” the gentleness in your voice is enough to finally bring his attention back to you. Voice a low murmur, he hardly catches it as you say, “I-I think you’re hot, too. I used to,” you can’t help the way your face blossoms in scarlet, “I used to think about you when I was alone.” While true, it’s a confession meant to lessen his guilt. Since becoming official with Ushijima, you haven’t thought of Kuroo in that sense. You leave that information out, knowing the natural bedhead is aware of that already. 

Kuroo can’t bite the incredulous shock that riddles his voice when he finally responds with a shaky, “what?” 

“I was attracted to you, I thought you were hot.” _Was_. Oh, how the past-tense word makes his stomach churn. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, you’re in love with Ushijima, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. “I just want you to know I’m not mad at you,” you reach over, grabbing one of his hands in your own, “you’re one of my best friends, Kuroo. I’m not going to hold your hormones or attraction against you.” The sentiment is enough to crack a small smile across his face, his other hand coming up to sandwich your smaller one in between his. Suddenly, his grip tightens, and you watch as a nervous blush splashes over his cheeks. 

“Does ..... does Ushijima know?” Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned about it, the man seemed incapable of expressing any emotion. But after watching how Terushima pushed him to the point of nearly trading blows, he was more apprehensive of the wing-spiker. A small twinge of guilt nips at you when you giggle at his concern, but you shake your head, ‘no.’ 

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. It was a drunken mistake.” Relief washes over him, along with a stab of deceit. He wasn’t drunk when he hooked up with her, he was hardly tipsy when he pictured you underneath him rather than the random party girl. But he keeps that to himself, more interesting in smoothing things over than giving unnecessary details. With nothing else to discuss, you pull out your bento to eat while Kuroo follows suit. It’s quiet the rest of the lunch period, but fortunately, there’s no awkwardness that lingers in the air. Kuroo smiles to himself, making a mental note to text Akaashi later and thank him for the advice. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

For the first time in over a month, practice was running flawlessly. Kuroo’s darkened temper had been lifted, erasing any of the doom and gloom the other players felt during volleyball. He had tried to hide his sour mood, and it generally worked, but only from where you stood. He had been more intense during their training, pushing the other boys harder. Of course, he had been using the claim of getting them in shape for Nationals, but everyone could see through the cover he tried to create. While practice today wasn’t any lighter on their physical capabilities, his mood has lightened exponentially. A fact everyone was grateful for. 

“(Name)-chan!” Looking up from the notes you had been taking, you find a rush of silver bolting in your direction. 

“Lev,” the saccharine smile you give makes his heart skip a beat. He had to beg you to stop thanking him for punching Terushima after the training camp, not feeling his actions were all that deserving of your praise. “What can I help you with?” 

He jerks his head in Kuroo’s general direction, “did you two make up?” 

“Yes,” you laugh lightly, the sound airy and sweet. 

“So, did he finally confess?!” Your hand clamps down tighter against the pencil you had balanced between your fingers, idling waiting to return to your notes. It had never dawned on you that the other boys had known about the incident. Glancing away with puffed cheeks all you can do is give a nod of your head. Lev jumps in place, face tightening into a bright smile as he beams down at you. “That means you accepted!?” Your expression drops, utter confusion replacing the mild uncertainty you had from the beginning of this brief conversation. 

“What do you mean, Lev?” 

“Kuroo told you he’s in love with you, so did you say it back? You guys are a couple now, right?” The way your face pales is more of an answer than any words fathomable, and Lev quickly replicated the dreadful expression with a hand over his mouth. His head snaps in all directions, looking to see if Kuroo was within hearing distance. His heart seizes in place when he finds Kuroo glaring at him, the sharp look so heated Lev can feel his body temperature rising. “I- I’m so sorry! It was just so obvious that he - I thought he told you! I’m sorry!” 

You’re stunned into silence, voice trapped in your throat as you stare dumbfounded at the lanky first year. Fumbling over your words, all you can manage to strangle out is, “I’m dating Ushijima.” Fifty shades of embarrassment color in Lev’s fair complexion. He knew that, he remembered hearing about it, but in his excitement over the possibility of his captain and manager finally being an item, it went right over his head. Nekomata barely has a moment to try to chime in before Kuroo calls the end of practice, sending a wave of gratitude through the elder coach. He didn’t want to be the one to do it, but he knew there was no hope for a productive practice after this. Fortunately, it was already close to the end of practice when the inevitable storm hit and wouldn’t do any damage to their schedule. 

You quickly close your notes, nearly sprinting to your bag you tossed into the furthest corner of the gym when you first arrived. It feels like stones have replaced the bones in your legs, weighing you down and making a quick escape impossible. You expect to find Kuroo hot on your trail to the exit, but when you look back, he’s still frozen in place on the court. As Yaku and Yamamoto starts towards you, you take off like a startled deer, making a mad dash towards the exit of the gym. You hastily change shoes before continuing your sprint towards your apartment. White-hot fire finds home in your legs, a similar burn scorching your lungs. The flame of exertion makes you numb to the biting cold of winter, unable to feel how your lack of layers stains your flesh red and your muscles buzz with pins and needles. Your mind is a mess of nonsensical babbling, scrambling to keep up with the pace your body moves at. Discovering Kuroo had a sexual attraction to you was manageable, it didn’t stir up your abandoned feelings. Uncovering he had deeper feelings, that’s a lot to process. Especially after spending so many years pining after him, believing he didn’t view you as anything more than a best friend. The knowledge only produces a million ‘what-if’s’ and it’s too much. Completely overwhelming. 

You barrel through the door like a bull in a china shop, startling Yuki off the couch and straight to his feet. He watches with eyes blown wide as you dart to your bedroom, only opening the door to throw your bag into the dark room before storming back towards the front door. 

“(N-Name)! Where are you going?” 

“Party!” Before you can vanish through the threshold, his hand is wrapped around your arm in attempt to stop you. “I’m not drinking,” you tell him with a flat, hardened tone that screams honesty. “I just need to be somewhere loud. I need the music to drown out my thoughts. I just need a distraction.” The fire in you subdues long enough for you to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder while reiterating, “I’m not drinking, Yu’.” Orchid orbs blink in astonishment, but a soft smile graces his lips and he releases his hold over you. A silent agreement to let you go do as you please because there’s nothing to worry about. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

The music was deafening, the bass reverberating through every part of your being. It was enough to halt any thoughts that dared to try to creep into your brain, like a barrier that kept everything at bay. Try as you may, not everything could be evaded. Despite your reaction to Lev outing Kuroo, you weren’t mad; not with Lev or even Kuroo. It caught you off guard and made you reflect on the many years you spent wishing he felt the same way about you. It wasn’t a thought you wanted, not when everything was going so flawlessly with Ushijima. The gained knowledge wouldn’t change how you felt for the Miyagi boy, you doubt anything ever would. But it still re-ignited feelings you thought had faded into the abyss. Feelings you didn’t want lingering around while in a relationship. “Hey!” A voice yelling over the music grabs you out of your reverie, snapping your head in their direction. He’s average height, nowhere near close to the towering length of the boys you spend most of your time with. He flashes a friendly grin, his hand smoothing back his dark brown locks. “You’re cute! Want to join me and some others for a game?” His crystal eyes watch you with rapt interest, never breaking from your face. How he finds you cute is astonishing in your mind, you literally came here in your track pants and a long-sleeve shirt. You look ready to go back to practice if anything. 

“Do I have to drink?” 

“Nah, they’re card games! Can be played with or without alcohol.” He nods backwards towards a small group of guys and girls, maybe only four total. 

You shrug with indifference, “sure, why not?” It could be a good distraction, playing something that doesn’t involve tossing a tiny ball into a cheap plastic cup. With your acceptance to his offer, he leads you over to the established group. 

“Hey, I got another player!” The unnamed male wraps an arm around your shoulder, but doesn’t force you against him, “Want to head up?” 

“We’re going to try to find at least two more people,” the other guy answers, his own attention flitting over the partygoers. His expression brightens as he lands on another male with a girl already wrapped around his arm. Clearly a couple. A reassuring sign, they weren’t focused on singles. 

The second male from the group of four smiles at you and the boy wrapped around your shoulder, “you two head up! We should be right behind.” There’s a slight hesitance in your step when the male who approached you goes to start walking, and he takes the sign in stride, not pushing you to go. 

“It’s fine, we can wait. Eren doesn’t take long to recruit players,” he chuckles, watching as the boy who spotted the couple saunters over and starts up a conversation. When he points over to your awaiting group, the couple passes a glance at each other before nodding and following Eren over to everyone. As the group moves through the crowd of people and to the stairs leading to the second floor, Eren asks from behind you, “so, got a boyfriend?” 

“I do,” you chirp with a fond smile, his face flashing through your mind. 

“Think he could beat me up?” You glance back at Eren. He’s around 177 cm, a good five to six centimeters taller than the brunette who recruited you. The height alone isn’t his only loss against Ushijima, he’s far less muscular. 

“He’d kill you,” you respond with a dark snicker, knowing full well the answer is nothing, but truth. 

The games were exactly what you needed, spending the next two hours laughing and thoroughly enjoying the night. Without much thought, you had ended up taking a few shots and chugging a can of Four-Loko after losing one of the card games. You had a mild buzz, nothing strong enough to make you forget all your inhibitions, but just enough to help you open up more. After two hours of drinking and joking around, the group had dissipated, leaving you with your recruiter. You had learned his name earlier, Axel. Watching as the couple and Eren finally bid their goodbyes for the night, the door to the room closed and you were left with Axel. He slid the small glass across the floor until it stopped right in front of you. 

“One more shot before we adjourn?” You eye the shot suspiciously, but his wording formed a giggle in your throat and a strange sense of security with him. Just as you had when he asked you to join the games, you shrug before taking the final shot of the night.

By the time you down the fourth one, you know you’ve made a mistake. You feel like you could walk amongst the stars, so weightless you wouldn’t disrupt the clouds. The sensation subsided when a pair of lips crash against your own, casting a boulder into your gut. You pull away from the kiss with furrowed brows, Axel still perched a mere inch away from your lips. 

“No. I have -“ 

“I want to fuck you.” The words spiral in your mind the same way the room does in your vision. Speckles of the void darken your distorted imagery of everything happening in front of you. As if against your own will, you flop onto your back, trying to focus on the ceiling. Your body is weighed down by unseen chains, cement coursing through your veins to help keep you immobilized. A tug at your ankle has you straining your eyes to look at Axel, situated by your feet with his hands already gripping the hem of your pants legs. “I want to fuck you,” he repeats, as if you somehow didn’t understand the words the first time. He had mentioned it earlier in the night, too. You shut him down then, telling him you weren’t interested, and you promised there was nothing he could say to change your stance on the matter. As much as you beg your head to shake, to signal you were not okay with this, nothing moved. It didn’t matter, he had to know you weren’t interested. Your explicitly shot down all of his advances through the night. The stuffy room feels ice cold the moment the air touches your bare legs, and that sensation is all it takes for the rest of you to succumb to the darkness eating at you. 

You don’t know how much time has passed by the time you come to, but you can still feel Axel on top of you. Mustering all the strength you can find, you push against his shoulders while fumbling out, “what time is it?” 

His movements stop as he blinks owlishly at you before moving to grab his phone, “um, it’s 1:30pm.”

“I need to go,” you sit up with a wobble, forcing him to scoot closer towards your feet rather than between your legs. All he can do is watch with a dumbfound expression as you try to redress yourself, clumsily stumbling in the process. “I told my boyfriend I’d be home by 1:30,” you lie with a slur, “he’ll come looking for me if I’m not home soon.” He remembers what you told Eren earlier about your boyfriend and puts up no fight to get you to stick around. It’s bad enough you woke up before he had time to finish and leave. All he can do is pray that, by the time you wake up in the morning, you don’t remember him or what he looks like. In truth, you hope the same. Without another word exchanged, you stumble out of the room, warily decent the stairs, before finally escaping into the frigid outside world. 

Cotton stuffing fills your skull, any trance of intelligence wiped clean by the numbness of the unfortunate events of the night. _Unfortunate_ , you scoff to yourself. It was vile. But you push it to the back of your mind, locking it behind every door you can, sealing the blockades off with locks and chains. Somehow the thirty-minute walk home passes in a matter of seconds, and as you throw yourself into the bed, you feel the tears sting the back of your eyes. Unable to handle the tormenting sensation, you close your eyes and will that whatever is in your system will assist you in passing out. Feeling is too much to ask of yourself, even the self-deprecative thoughts it your skull rattle away to silence. For once, the numbness you loathed has never been more appreciated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to get out, I admit that is was incredibly difficult to write.  
> I've already started the next chapter, but that one may take some time, too. There's a lot of emotions to unearth and hash out.


	11. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!! Mentions of rape.   
> This chapter is SUPER angsty, ya'll. It took so much out of me to write this, but it was also the most relief I've ever felt.   
> Included some fluff at the end because, I'm not sure about you, but I needed it.

“(Name), you’re going to be late!” Yuki calls from the other side of your bedroom door, waiting for a response as he secures his blue and white tie in place. There’s silence on your end and he wonders if you’re still asleep. The gears in his mind shift; even if you had gotten drunk last night, you would have been up by now. No matter how late you went to bed drunk, for some reason, you always woke up early. The only thing he can think is something must be wrong; something severe enough to keep you from going to class. Even if you were occasionally a tad late, you never missed a day. He knocks on the door once more, “(Name), I’m going to come in, okay?” Yuki doesn’t wait for a response, pushing open your door and entering. You wouldn’t have said anything to him, anyways. 

He finds you on your bed, curled into a fetal position, but miraculously ready for school. His head tilts to the side, hot pink locks shifting across his forehead as he stares at your huddled form. Had you gotten ready and then decided not to go? Caution courses through him as he shuffles up to your bed, wary of startling you. With your back turned to him, he can’t tell if you’re asleep or spaced out in your own reality. Gently, as if touching a piece of fractured glass, he shakes your shoulder, “(Name),” even the way he calls for your attention is light as air, as if the slightest decibel too loud would crumble you to shards. You finally respond, but only a scratchy, throaty ‘hm’ comes out. He’s never seen you so desolate before, the imagery of your silent suffering clutching his heart in a vice. Yuki has seen you at your lowest points; so drunk you didn’t know your own name, crying to the point of getting sick, but you’ve never been unresponsive. Not to him. 

Taking a careful seat at the edge of your bed, Yuki gingerly rubs your upper arm, “are you okay?” You know he’s not asking because he’s oblivious, he’s asking to give you the chance to decide to talk about it. 

“Not really. I slept like shit,” you mumble out in a voice so low and hoarse he instinctively knows you’ve spent the whole night either puking or crying. 

“Did you drink too much?” He asks with a tone equivalent to treading on thin ice, beyond cautious and ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. He doesn’t want to accuse you, but it’s a valid question. You had been doing so well with avoiding parties and drinking. 

“No,” it’s not entirely a lie. You never got close to reaching your limit. Had one of the shots you had not been laced with a drug, you would have been completely sober by the time you made it back home. His gaze is still cast down on the back of your skull, as if he can see your expression through the layers of flesh and bone. “I ate something they had, and it just didn’t sit right.” 

He nods slowly, not completely buying the story, but he has no way to call your bluff. This certainly isn’t your regular hangover behavior, but he’s also never seen you in such a state either. “You going to stay home?” 

It takes you a minute to decide that for yourself. Do you really want to risk your perfect attendance record right at the end of your third year? No. Are you going to? “No, I’m going to class.” The mattress shifts as his weight lifts from it. He continues to stare at you, defeated and lifeless, and sighs under his breath. With a reminder that you’ll tell him the truth when you’re ready, he nods to himself in a feeble attempt to placate his concern. 

“Alright, well, you have twenty minutes before you’re late.” With that, he makes his exit, not wanting to force you into speaking. 

You lay in bed for what feels like eternity, but when you check the time on your phone, it’s only been three minutes. Despite there being no physical marks on you, every movement brings a bolt of pain across your muscles. Your skin should be battered and bruised based off the stabbing sensation in every limb, but your flesh is unmarred of any stains. Visible ones, at least. Even after spending the better half of the early morning hours in the shower, scrubbing your skin raw, you feel dirty. Tainted. You had even turned the shower to the hottest setting and sat under the water until you were sure your skin would blister, but it made no difference. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t wash him off of you. 

Your bones creak as you sit up and slide off the bed, as if you mock you with another type of pain. One that seems just as permanent as the haunting memory of last night. You’ve grown used to that feeling, though. The one of physical exhaustion, of limbs pushes past their limit. It’s a pain you relish in, take pride in, but for once can’t seem to do so. 

Walking into the kitchen to grab out some quick snacks for the day, you pause as your eyes falter to the cabinet besides the fridge. Nine times out of ten, the contents inside aren’t even a pin-needle on your radar, but today it feels like a blimp. You don’t think twice about grabbing your hydro flask, dumping it, and grabbing one of the clear liquors from out of the cabinet. The way the smell of the caramel vodka singes your nostrils, like a warning not to go further with your horrible plan. You fill the flask a little less than halfway before dumping apple cider in until it’s topped off. No one would think twice about it unless they were close enough to catch a whiff of the concoction, but you were a master in the art of discretion. A vibration against the counter catches your attention just as your about to close the lid on the spiked cider. 

**_Toshi-love_ **

_Good morning. Have a good day._

_I love you_. 

Just the flash of his name across your screen has your brain screaming, begging you to dump the mixture. _Leave it behind. **Don’t do it.**_ But your love for him isn’t stronger than your desire to embrace the numbing sensation of nothingness. You twist the lid on and reply to Ushijima with your own claim of love. The statement is true, no matter how hollow it currently feels. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

You make it into class with mere seconds to spare, having had to jog half the way to campus just to make it on time. Slipping into your usual spot beside Kuroo, you take a deep breath before popping the built-in straw on your lid open and taking a sip of your vodka-cider. Kuroo watches you from the corner of his eye the entire time. The fact you sat beside him after yesterday’s debacle was surprising as is, but from the moment you sat down up until the bell for lunch rang out, you were dazed. You watched the teachers, your eyes followed everything they wrote on the board, you nodded along to everything they said, but you still weren’t there. Not mentally. He wasn’t oblivious to the way your drink went down your throat faster than normal; you were a slow drinker, always had been. But come lunch, your drink was halfway gone whereas it would usually only be a few sips taken. He waited a few minutes after you left the classroom to follow, curious to observe your behavior. Halfway down the hall, Yaku and Kai made an appearance. Typically, the four of you would sit together for lunch, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to see them veer towards you. 

“Hey, (Name)-chan!” Upon hearing the voice of Kai calling out for you, you perked up. Looking over to him and libero with a dazzling smile and wave of your hand, Kuroo felt his stomach clench. He stood frozen watching as you chatted animatedly with the two players, but none of your expressions or emotions reached your eyes. They were muted, cold, and as lifeless as the frozen world outside. He could tell with ease how you faked every interaction, every laugh forced as if you had no other choice. 

Feeling the intensity of someone hawking over your every movement, you glanced over to find Kuroo watching you, Yaku, and Kai. Whatever pleasant facade you had dropped, quickly unsettling the two males. Kuroo knew you inside and out, half the time you wondered if the cat-like fiend could even read your mind; he always seemed to know what you were thinking or about to say next. You hand gripped tighter against your hydro flask, knuckles bone white as your anxiety grabbed you by the throat. He knew. There was no denying it, he _knew_ something was horribly skew with you and it had nothing to do with him. “(Name)-chan, you alright?” Kai asks with furrowed brows, reaching an arm out to grab your shoulder. His movement startled you into a reactive flinch away, but you quickly laugh it off while shaking your hand as if it were nothing. 

“Yeah! I’m fine!” 

_I’m not._

“Want to head to lunch?” You look up at the two with your signature smile, but Kuroo can read the truth, your silent plea for help. Like a demon on your back, he can see your internal plight clawing at you, overwhelming you until your writhing into the ground with barely any fight left within. You’re on the brink of a complete melt down, and like hell will he let you deal with it alone. 

He watches you through the rest of your classes, how you guzzle the dark liquid in your container. He’s not oblivious, he can plainly see where the liquid lightened in color at the bottom. Kuroo watches as your cheeks get progressively redder the closer you get to finishing off whatever you had prepared for yourself, and by the time the bell rings to dismiss everyone, you’re glued to your seat. You’ve got a decent buzz going, not enough to slur your speech or throw your stride off, but enough to leave your body in a warm tingle that feels just right. You don’t even notice that everyone else has long since filed out of the class by the time you even begin to pack your untouched notebooks into your bag. When you go to toss you bag over your shoulder and the weight vanishes from your hand completely, you begin to reevaluate just how much liquor you added to your drink. 

Kuroo steps around to your front, you bag slung over his shoulder along with his own. He drops them both on to the desk behind him before folding his arms over his chest, glowering down at you like a disappointed parent. There’s no doubt about it, he knows you were drinking and he’s furious. “Kuroo, I can -“ 

“Are you fucking stupid?” His question packs a punch, one that nearly has you doubling over from the emotional blow. Not once has he ever seemed so betrayed, so let down by someone. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’re drinking, again! And on school grounds, no less!” His voice is quickly increasing as the bass in his voice drops. “Do you want to ruin your chances at med-school!? Fuck, (Name), I can’t believe _you_ would do something this stupid!” You can’t bring yourself to look at him, keeping your focus on your legs instead. Kuroo growls before crouching down low enough to where you’re forced to meet his scorching gaze. He’s livid, face red from the intensity of his heated wrath, lips curled into an unforgiving scowl. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“I -“ the truth sits on the tip of your tongue, dancing at the ledge, just waiting for the slightest nudge to send it over the edge. His fury dies the moment your glossy orbs move to lock with his, vision so blurred by the buildup of awaiting tears that, as soon as you blink, there’s a cascade of never-ending liquid down your cheeks. He watches as your entire face tints red, your throat quaking as you struggle to take in any oxygen. Your sobs block your esophagus, making breathing an impossibility. At first, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he’s never seen you do this before. Until he sees one of your hands clutch at your chest, the sting of suffocation overwhelming your senses as your other hand desperately claws against your leg, as if forcing a pain reaction with jumpstart your lungs. Kuroo is to his feet in seconds, arms wrapped tightly around you, his warmth encapsulating you like a security blanket. His hands run up and down your spine as he whispers for you not to hold back, let it out. “I’ll be right here; I won’t let you fall.” It’s as if that’s all you needed to hear, like knowing someone would catch you on your fall from grace was enough for you to give in. The deafening sobs that ravage your throat hardly sound human, and Kuroo can’t help the way they make him tense up. He fights and reasons with everything in him to keep it together, but you don’t even sound pained; you sound like a dying animal. Something so close to the end all you can do is lay there and accept fake as it takes you is the most wretched way imaginable. He has no idea what has damaged you like this, but he wants nothing more than to bring an end to the cause. From above, you can feel his tears soaking into the back of your collar, and the idea of your torment crumbling him to a similar state of despair only strengthens your guilt. 

When you finally calm down and pull away from his tarnished shirt, you glance up at him. He quickly wipes his face on the sleeves of his blazer. With a sniffle he croaks our a soft, “(Name), please. What happened?” And just like that, the process starts all over again. He can’t bear to see you like this, watching you fall apart crushing his heart and soul with ease. He can’t take it. “I’m going to call Ushijima, okay?” All you can manage is a nod before your hands cover your face, trying to hide your break down from him. Your screams of anguish are so overwhelming that your mind can’t even begin to attempt to placate you with words of being strong in front of your friend, or not interrupting your boyfriend who is probably at practice. There no willing yourself into confessing because the tears, the sobs, and the convulsing won’t stop. 

Kuroo digs through your bag until his finds your phone and quickly pulls up Ushijima’s contact to call him. Two rings and the line picks up, but it’s not Ushijima who answers. 

“Ohlolo, (Name)-ch -“ 

“Tendo! Put Ushijima on! It’s an emergency.” There’s no silly banter from the other line, Tendo taking the severity in Kuroo’s tone as authority and quickly bounding over to Ushijima. 

“Hel-“

“Ushijima! It’s (Name), something happened and I can’t -“ his voice cracks as he watches how you struggle to gain your breath once again, noisily hyperventilating as your eyes dart around in a panic. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her!” Ushijima and Tendo can both hear you over the speaker and Kuroo’s panicked breathing, neither sound quiet even without being on speaker. Semi and a few others look to Ushijima, a mix of concern and fear taking hold of their visage. 

“Get her home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” It’s the first time Ushijima has skipped a practice, and not a single person dares to question him as he takes especially long strides out of the gym. 

While attempting to get you to even out your breathing, Kuroo sends a text to Kai and Yaku from his phone, alerting them that the two of you won’t be at practice. Kuroo continues to hold you and do everything in his power to attempt to calm you enough to get you home. He waits until you’re unable to produce any more tears and reduced to nothing more than tiny sniffles and soft whimpers before talking to you again. He crouches in front of you once again, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he speaks in the softest voice he’s ever conjured, “I’m going to take you home, okay? Ushijima is on his way. I’m not going to leave your side until you tell me to, got it?” With another shutter across your body, you lightly nod in agreement. 

Kuroo keeps you pressed right against his side as he walks you home, hoping his body heat will comfort you while staving off the cold. During the walk, he shoots Bokuto and Akaashi a text, asking if they mind keeping Yuki occupied until he and Ushijima are able to talk to you. Immediately concerned, Akaashi asks what’s going on while Bokuto brainstorms a plan. Getting Yuki to go out with them won’t be difficult, but if he already suspects something is wrong with you, he’ll put up a fight to get home. A fact Kuroo is also aware of. Without having all the facts, himself, all he can offer is that you’re completely desolate. It’ll be enough of an answer for Yuki to agree to stay away until told otherwise. Especially if Kuroo and Ushijima are able to get you to come clean about what has you in such a fragile state. 

You’re only home for an hour by the time Ushijima arrives, having gotten the exact address from Kuroo, whom he had been texting nonstop to ask about you. When he walks into the apartment, he finds you huddled on the couch; one blanket over your lap with another wrapped around you. Your face is barely visible from under the mountain of fluff, but he can still see how your expression morphs from dreadful numbness to mindless guilt as soon as your reddened optics land on him. Kuroo sits on the opposite side of the couch, flinching as you once again begin to break down. There are no more tears to fall, your eyes dried from spilling all you could for the past two and a half hours, but the sobs break through the sound barrier and your entire body tremors in place. Ushijima is on you in seconds, picking you up while still wrapped in your cocoon, before sitting down with you in between his legs. His arms wrap around you in an embrace so warm and full of love, it only makes you feel more disgusted with yourself. Ushijima’s forehead comes to rest between your shoulder blades, placing mindless kisses against your layers that you barely register. You reel out of his touch, suddenly regretting ever letting Kuroo call him. Despite being the victim, being taken advantage of, you feel as though you’ve cheated on him. As if you betrayed him. Not just because someone else touched you, but because you went out to a party. You drank, and if anyone where to hear that much of the story, they’d assume you got drunk and hooked up with him. After all, that’s what you were good for doing when drunk. Ushijima sits there in muted shock, still gripping at your blankets in disbelief. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him display emotion so effortlessly in front of another. And the reality of it has Kuroo just as baffled. 

Your arms come up, wrapping around yourself as you look away from the two of them. “ _Tell them,_ ” you try to encourage yourself. You know you need to, for your sake and sanity. You know the truth of what happened, you know you didn’t do anything wrong, you are the victim, but somehow that doesn’t make you feel less guilty. It doesn’t clean away the dark stains his actions left on your body, in your mind, or the havoc it’s wreaked over your emotions. Even you know that telling them is just the beginning. The feeling of his hands on your body won’t stop haunting you just because you speak of the tragedy. The million scenarios of what you feel like you should have done instead won’t just go away when you shed light on the evil committed against you. This is more than a single talk can solve. It’s deeper than just exposing the truth instead of hiding from the torment. It’s learning to look at yourself as someone respectable all over again. It’s retraining your mind not to blame yourself. Its hours, days, endless time spent on taking back your body, your autonomy, which you had stolen from you by someone who had no right to touch it. “ _This is just step one, take it_.” Neither of the boys miss the way your hands ball into fists so tight that your nails dig into your palms, leaving angry crescents in their wake. You swallow hard, the sound bouncing off the walls in the otherwise silent apartment. Kuroo nor Ushijima make a move to speak, not wanting to frighten you away from talking. They want you to open up to them, they need you to be honest, because they know as much as it’s eating them up inside, it’s killing you. Draining you like a parasite does its host. A deep breath fills your lungs, a shuddering exhale coming out before your eyes snap shut and you begin the brutal process of healing. “I went to a party last night,” they watch as your lids flutter open, but you make no move to look at them. The simple sentence alone has both males tensing in place, their minds filling with a million different scenarios, but neither hitting the mark. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be enough to brace them from the reality of such a low blow. “I didn’t want to get drunk, I just wanted to listen to the music. Feel it thump through me, you know?” It’s a rhetorical question, but they both nod in agreement, nonetheless. “A group asked me if I wanted to play some card games with them,” you pick at the cuff of your uniform shirt, the purity of the white an underhanded reminder of your lack of innocence. “I did drink a little with them, but not nearly enough to be effected by it.” 

“(Name), it’s okay,” Ushijima’s deep voice carries a sweet calmness to it that reminds you of floating through the gentlest of currents. He doesn’t want to rush you, but he can see how you’re adding more details, trying to prolong the inevitable. It’s also his way of assuring you that he believes you, he has full faith in the promise you made to not lie to him. 

“Everyone left. It was just us. I didn’t think anything of it, I didn’t question him or the shots. There were only four, but I don’t know which was -“ your voice chokes off into a muffled sob as you bite down on your lower lip to keep it from trembling. Their body language is enough to indicate they know what’s coming next, and Kuroo has half a mind to tell you not to say it, but Ushijima can see that conflict in him and shakes his head. You need to say it, and Ushijima knows that. You need to speak it, make it known, release it into the open or else it’ll stay trapped in your mind like the vilest of demons. “He’d made passes at me all night and I told him no every time! I told him and everyone else I had a boyfriend, and I couldn’t stop talking about you,” when you finally look at Ushijima, there’s already a wet trail down his cheeks. He’s fighting with everything in him, every coping mechanism, to keep from breaking down right alongside you. “He said he wanted to fuck me and I told him no, but then,” your body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane, desperate to cling to the tree branch to keep yourself from being swept away in the storm, “everything was so fuzzy and I just collapsed. And then he said it again, but I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t even move to -“ doubling over, your hands clutch at your stomach, watching fruitlessly as tears drip onto the wooden surface below your feet. Kuroo has a hand over his mouth to muffle his own sounds of anguish, hazel orbs snapped shut to stave off the sting of salty tears. Ushijima has a death grip on the arm of the sofa, every muscle straining as he fights off the deadly concoction of grief, fury, and broken heartedness. Because he can hear the doubt you place on yourself, on if you were at fault or not. He knows, from the last sentence, you’re walking on a line of “did I consent or not.” Ushijima knows you have no control over it, but he wants nothing more than to reassure you that you did nothing wrong. You never gave consent. You repeatedly told that disgrace you weren’t interested. You said no the first time he said he wanted to have sex with you. He _drugged_ you, took away your choice and make it for you. Disregarding his own feelings, Ushijima unlatches himself from the couch to approach you. 

In your mind, he’s furious. He loathes you and is ready to tear into you for going out, for sleeping with someone else. He’s going to leave you. But he grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you into him, your face smooshed against his upper stomach with your forehead stuck right below his pecks. The grip he has around your shoulders is crushing, but it conveys every emotion pumping through him. Finally, your arms wrap around his waist, fingers digging into the smooth muscle of his back as you cry with him. He’s silent as he holds you, even if there’s a novel worth of information he wants to tell you. Kuroo has finally calmed down, and as much as he wants to stay to comfort you, it’s not his place. After all, he has his own guilt to deal with now. 

He knows you went to that party because of what happened at practice. Discovering one of your best friends is in love with you just two days after finding out they imagined you were the person they were fucking; he can’t begin the process how much that is to sit with. Especially knowing you had romantic feelings for him, feelings that existed just a month ago. He doesn’t disturb you but places a soft hand on Ushijima’s shoulder to signal his departure before silently creeping out of the apartment. Outside in the hall, he breaks down again, his face falling as low as his neck will allow in effort to conceal his distraught. Through the bleary vision tainted with anguish, he sends a text to Akaashi and Bokuto telling them to let Yuki know you and Ushijima need the apartment alone tonight. It’s damn near impossible to read emotion through text, but the two Fukurodani boys read the message loud and clear. 

“You need to get out of your uniform,” Ushijima states with a voice as light as a feather. It’s strange to hear his blunt words spoken so sweetly, but it somehow grounds you to the sanity you risk losing. Your head bobs in agreement, finally unwrapping yourself from around his torso. Ushijima begins you guide you out of the living room only to suddenly come to a complete stop, making you gently bump into his back from the abrupt halt. “I don’t know where your room is.” The near silent giggle that leaves you lips in wake of his valiant effort to comfort you is music to his ears, even if he is mildly embarrassed at the failed attempt. You guide him to your room, closing the door behind the two of you. “Where is the bathroom?” You point to the door on the left side of the room, wordlessly answering his question. As he vanishes into the other room, you freeze in place. Even with your mind working at the speed of light, it’s completely empty. No thoughts, no imagery, just radio static and darkness. You know you’ve started to unbutton your shirt, but you can’t feel the movements. It’s like watching yourself from the outside; existing in the astral realm rather than the physical. No sense of time exists to you, nothing seems to exist around you. You only come back when you feel Ushijima’s hand covering your own, once again reeling you back from the ledge. “Do you mind?” He asks, carefully tapping at one of the buttons on your shirt. You shake your head, moving your hands away to allow him to undo the rest. It’s in that moment, where Ushijima is carefully undressing you, that you register the sound of the bathtub running. There’s a new scent that lightly tickles your senses, but you brain struggles to piece together that fact he’s run a bath for you. When you’re left in just a bra and underwear, your shirt, skirt, tie, and knee-high socks placed in your hamper, he gently leads you into the bathroom. 

You’re greeted to dim lighting, only the vanilla candles you keep stored in the closet as a source of light. The warm fragrance from the candles mixes with the lavender from the bubble bath he poured into the water. You step up to the tub and go to unclasp your bra, but find your fingers just dancing along the clips, unable to undo them. “Do you want me to step out?” There’s no definitive answer to that. You don’t want him to see you naked. That unclean sensation still prattles around in your heart and mind, making you feel as if you’re not worthy of anyone seeing you bare. You’re tainted and underserving of attention. But you know he doesn’t view you like that, all of the hatred you feel is entirely of your own creation. Ushijima doesn’t think you’re ugly for what happened, and his intentions are entirely pure. He’s been the only thing to help you keep from spiraling and asking him to step out is like walking across a tight rope with no safety net below. “C-can you turn around until I get in?” 

“Of course.” He does as asked, turning to face the door rather than you. It satiates your desire to keep him close without exposing the invisible damage sprawled across your skin, even if you feel like it’s inked on your skin in coal. Even after you skin deep enough into the water to cover yourself to your neck, Ushijima sits down on the floor with his back against the porcelain wall of the tub. Neither of you know what to say, even though Ushijima still has an entire script written in his mind. But for whatever reason, the most important words have been bouncing on the tip of his tongue since the moment he embraced you in the living room. “I love you, (Name). You will get through this.” Once again, words escape you, and your response is an action rather than words. You reach your hand out of the tub, grabbing for his. It’s awkward and uncomfortable for the both of you, your elbow digging into the cool top of the bath as his arm dangles up in the air for you to hold. But neither of you would dare to pull away. 

He says nothing as you change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Ushijima knows from experience how much you hate sleeping in clothes and offered to sleep on the couch if it made you more comfortable. But you nuzzle into your bed right beside him, your head cradled in the soft junction of his shoulder. “It’s not you. I just feel .... gross. I feel so ugly and -“ 

His fingers brush through your hair and he softly shushes you, placing a delicate kiss to the crown of your head. “I understand. But you’re not ugly, you’re not gross. You did nothing wrong. Someone stole your bodily rights from you, you did not give them up willingly. I do not think any less of you, and my love for you will not be tampered by this.” His arm around your shoulder tightens, pulling you closer to him, “I will help you through this. _We_ will get past this.” A single tear escapes as you place a grateful kiss against his collarbone before closing your eyes and drifting to sleep with the pillar of a man. You’ll never be able to express your gratitude towards him, but you’ll try with everything in you to do so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking through this and reading this fic! It means so much to me and I hope everyone continued to enjoy it; even through the darkness and pain.   
> There is light ahead, I promise!


	12. Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new chapter! Sorry the updates have slowed down; I'm working on a lot of ideas, and my life has decided to completely flip on its head.

He spent the entire night awake, his back pressed against the headboard of his bed, eyes red and puffy. There had been a point where no more tears could be produced, so Kuroo settled to stare off into the abyss with a solemn look and clenched jaw. He should have told you himself, when the two of you talked at lunch. The confession should have come from him in a place where he could talk it out with you. Maybe, just maybe, then you wouldn’t have felt the need to go out. If you had heard it all from him, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a shock to your system. But the reality of it all is, that’s not what happened. Kuroo didn’t tell you, not the full truth, and the secret came out anyway. 

Hours of blaming himself, wondering what he could have done to prevent this tragedy from ever happening, passed by in minutes. Even with his hardened hazel orbs transfixed on his window, he never noticed the soft flurries of snow morphing into something chaotic and beautiful. For whatever reason, his brain began to change tracks, exhausted of its path towards self-destruction brought on by needless blame. Kuroo was not at fault. Lev was not at fault. You definitely were at no fault. No, the only person to blame was the scum who decided to take advantage of you. 

Passing a glance to his clock, the time taunted his in harsh scarlet; 3:37am. That was when the icy tundra outside became visible, and an idea tracked through his mind. 

As he reached for his phone, his hand came to an abrupt stop. Was this the best idea? Really, he wasn’t sure. But there was no way he would let you spend the day hiding away inside, replaying the events of the prior night over in your mind on a loop. For precautionary measures, he texted Ushijima first. He doubted he would be awake right now, but there was no question in his mind the machine would be the first person up. Much to his surprise, a response came in no more than ten minutes later, confirming he thought it was a good idea, and had been considering something similar. With that, Kuroo set to work, creating a group chat. He didn’t give explicit details about what happened, the most he mentioned was that you needed help and maybe a distraction. That’s all the information they would need, anyways. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Waking up, you fully expected to find Ushijima gone and the only sound in the apartment to be that of silence. A loud clatter from the other room made you startle, shooting upright out of the bed before snapping your head to the door. Multiple voices “hush”-ing whatever, rather whoever, caused the ruckus ringing out. The most distinctive sound, Ushijima’s ocean deep voice grunting out a quick warning to the rest. Giggling to yourself, you slip out of bed, sliding on a pair of fuzzy slippers before stealthily creeping out of the bedroom. 

Your kitchen had been overrun by boys; Ushijima and Tendo both working at the stove, Akaashi and Kuroo filling glasses with juice, milk, and tea, all while Bokuto and Yuki watched diligently from their barstools at the island. “What are you all doing?” Like thieves caught in the act, everybody went straight as a rod. Ushijima, unphased or surprised by your arrival, turned to face you as the rest passed skeptical glances to each other. Even in crinkled pajamas, with your hair still tied in a messy bun and your cheeks and eyes still swollen from a full night of shedding tears, Ushijima knew you were the most beautiful thing to ever come into his life. 

“Good morning. I’m sorry we,” he places a sharp glance towards Bokuto, “woke you.” You just smile, shaking your head as you meet him at the entrance of the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist as his curl around your shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” resting your chin against him, you look up into his olive orbs, “but what is everyone doing here? It’s a school day.” 

“Nope!” Bokuto hums happily, fingers tapping a jovial tune against the counter as his head sways to the beat, “snow day!” 

Your brows furrow as you look to the redhead still focused on his task, “Satori-kun, how did you get here, then?” 

He wiggles a finger over his shoulder, “you know the trains never stop!” You nod, but he quickly adds with a light chuckle, “I’ve been here since last night, though.” Ushijima smiles lightly at your surprise, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Tendo spins around after moving a few things around, “come on, (Name). You didn’t really think I wouldn’t come running after hearing you so upset?” 

“He texted me he was here when you were in the bath,” Ushijima explains, keeping one arm wrapped around you while leading you to sit at the counter with Bokuto and Yuki. 

“How did you ge -“

“I have a key, remember? I just waited until Wakkun texted you say you fell asleep.” Tendo smiles, his eyes crinkling as he does, “I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You look at Bokuto, Akaashi, Yuki, and Kuroo, “and the rest of you?” 

Yuki scoffs, folding his arms across his chest as he looks away from you, “I live here, thank you!” There’s no malice in his words, and the playful hurt on his features only makes you giggle softly. 

“Kuroo suggested we all come over to help make breakfast!” Bokuto points at said male, “he thought we could help you take advantage of the day off.” A light tension fills the room as Kuroo tries to avoid your gaze, a small sliver of guilt still gnawing at his mind. He gives in when Ushijima passes him a glance, his earthy green stare enough to silently remind Kuroo he needs to stop blaming himself. It’s enough to bring Kuroo back to the lengthy conversation they had earlier this morning, surprisingly using Tendo as a mediator. Kuroo fully expected the wild-eyed male to back Ushijima with no consideration to his feelings but was pleasantly surprised. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

_Kuroo had texted to say he was coming up the stairs, to which Ushijima only replied to tell him to just come in. Even over text, he was a man of few words. The moment Kuroo stepped inside, he was met with deafening silence and the smell of eggs cooking. Toeing his shoes off at the door, he can already tell someone else is here. Despite the scent of food flooding the apartment, there’s a heaviness that circulates and weighs down on his chest, making it hard to breathe._

_He makes a be-line to the kitchen, only to find Tendo cooking while Ushijima sits at the island. He had a cup of coffee in front of him, head cradled in one of his hands. Kuroo has never seen him at anything other than peak condition, but he can easily read the exhaustion and sorrow that consumes the brunette. Judging from the darkness circling under his lids and the way his sclera scream for rest, he didn’t sleep a wink last night._

_“Morning, Kuroo,” Tendo greets with a casualness that seems to stir Ushijima from whatever realm he was trapped in. He says nothing but gives the noirette a nod of acknowledgement. Kuroo returns the gesture before greeting Tendo in return. He walks into the kitchen, but his movements shuffle to stillness right on the opposite side of the counter from Ushijima. Jerking his head at Tendo, he asks, “does he know?”_

_“He does.” Telling Tendo had to be the most difficult thing Ushijima has done to date, and it was even more excruciating for the middle blocker. Not only did he have to listen about how one of his closest friends was defiled, he had to do it while watching his other best friend break down in front of him. Tendo watched in muted horror, his heart fracturing, as he watched the strongest, most emotionally walled-off person he ever met crumble._

_Just the mention of it sends a chill down his spine and a wave of nausea through his gut. Tendo’s nose crinkles as he scrapes the eggs onto a plate, grateful to be done cooking as the mere idea of food made him want to hurl. Setting the plate down in front of his captain, Tendo returns to lean against the counter space beside the stove. His hand balls, coming to rest under his chin as his focus shifts to the floor. “I still don’t get what made her go out,” he thinks aloud. “She was doing so well avoiding parties.”_

_Kuroo glances away from the pair, biting at the inside of his cheek as he does. It’s the first time he finds himself reacting without thinking, his lips moving before his mind can think better of it, “it’s my fault.” The omission has Tendo and Ushijima locking on him like missiles. Vermillion brows raise in question as the other male keeps his infamous look of stoicism. Kuroo rubs nervously at the back of his neck, eyes shifted down and to the side in effort to avoid seeing the reaction from either as he says, “she found out that I’m in love with her.”_

_“What?” Both Tendo and Kuroo nearly jump out of their skin at Ushijima’s deadpan question. Ushijima just stares expectantly at the Nekoma player, silently urging him to explain, but Kuroo seems to miss the hint, too busy feeling his fight or flight kick in. Tendo, easily registering the flash of fear through the feline orbs across from him, puts his hands up in a way to signal a white flag. Passing a quick glance at Ushijima to gauge whatever is going through his mind, Tendo nods to himself before turning back to Kuroo. “What exactly happened?” Kuroo’s lips purse tightly, there’s no way to avoid this conversation, or any way to have it without exposing the entire situation from last weekend up until now. Unbeknownst to him, Kuroo looks over to the redhead. Tendo gives a small shrug, “Just start from the beginning.” That little tip alone is enough to spark a flicker of recognition to the glimmer in knowing red eyes. Tendo knows. For some reason, that’s just as terrifying as having to tell Ushijima._

_Kuroo signs in resignation, there’s no hiding from it anymore. “I went out last weekend while (Name) was with you guys,” he half expects Ushijima to raise a questioning brow, curious as to how that has anything to do with the current situation, but his face remains unmoved. “I hooked up with a girl and - and I ended up calling her by (Name)’s name.” There’s an uncontrolled twitch to the corner of his mouth, but the building fury is blinding in his green eyes._

_“Ah!” Tendo furiously waves a hand in Ushijima’s direction, “hear him out, don’t get all possessive.”_

_“I am not -“_

_“_ Listen _,” Tendo hisses at him before waving Kuroo to continue._

_Kuroo shifts his stance, clearly ready to flee or fight trying at a moment’s notice, “(Name) found out when she tried to call me. The girl answered my phone and, I guess, she thought (Name) was my girlfriend. So, she told her.” He rolls his neck out, listening to the bones crack as he does, “It was awkward, we were avoiding each other for a couple days. She confronted me and wanted to talk through it.” The snippet of a laugh he releases sounds mournful, “we’ve been best friends for three years, losing all of that over something so stupid seemed like a waste.” Tendo was still glancing back and forth between the two, quickly assessing how each was managing in terms of their emotional range. “I lied when I talked to her.”_

_The statement makes Ushijima sit up straighter, his arms folding in front of his chest. “Why?”_

_“I didn’t want to tell her I loved her in that way, I didn’t want to stress her any further or make her uncomfortable. She’s in love with you, she’s happy with you, she didn’t need me complicating it. So, I made it seem like just sexual attraction.”_

_“Then how did she find out?”_

_“The other guys noticed we weren’t acting normal, one of them thought I confessed. Fully. And he told her about my feelings.” There’s nothing more to say after that, the entire story out on the table. Kuroo’s foot taps against the floor as the blame inside starts to build again. “It’s my fault. If I had just -“_

_“It is not your fault.” There’s a certainly, an absolution in Ushijima’s voice that immediately makes Kuroo fall silent. Ushijima keeps his attention to Kuroo, blatantly ignoring the way Tendo looks at him with knitted brows and lowered eyes that read ‘please, don’t.’ “You don’t need to blame yourself. I don’t like knowing you see her that way,” he looks away, clearing his throat slightly, “but I understand it.” The snicker Tendo let’s out forces the other two males the blush awkwardly, not sure how to feel or react. “Do not blame yourself. And do not let it ruin your friendship with her.” The way he emphasized friendship is not lost on Kuroo, and his mouth pulls into a crooked grin._

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

“I know how much you love snows days,” Kuroo admits almost silently, finally looking over at you. “And these dorks are pretty decent company.” 

“Hey!” Yuki and Bokuto cry at the same time, making Akaashi shake his head as Kuroo chuckles. You laugh lightly, but the heavenly sound chokes out into small whimpers as fresh tears bloom. Ushijima and Kuroo move at once, expecting a breakdown, but you look up at them with a smile. Everyone holds their breath, entirely unsure of what’s happening in the moment. With breakneck speed, your arms fly around Bokuto’s neck, your face digging into his shoulder and you sniffle out, “I love you guys. So, so much.” Bokuto smiles, his arm wrapping around your waist, sliding you off your stool and holding you against him. 

Tendo and Akaashi move all the food onto the counter, Ushijima and Kuroo bringing over the various drinks. With everyone seated in stools around the bar, there was no time spared in taking what everyone wanted and digging in. At the first bite, a symphony of appreciative moans danced through the air. “Satori, you’re going to be a phenomenal chef,” you praised, eyes still closed in bliss as you savored the food. It had been a while since you had cooked with him, or even had him cook for you. 

He giggled, bounding over and squeezing himself between you and Ushijima to place a kiss against your temple, “thank you, (Name)-chan!” Following the interaction, a few others were quick to give their own praise, admittedly amazed at the skill he exuded. Breakfast was as rowdy as to be expected, Bokuto and Kuroo chatting and tormenting each other while Akaashi just stares at them with straight-lined lips and Yuki nags them for making a mess. Tendo chats with everyone but focuses mostly on you and Ushijima. You sit back and observe all the boys surrounding you, your fingers interlaced with your boyfriends under the table. A wide smile tears across you face, they’re your boys. They have been for the past three years, even longer in the case of Tendo and Yuki. “ _I’m so lucky to have them_ ,” you think to yourself in absolute gratitude. 

The boys urged you to go get dressed while they cleaned up, eager to get out in the snow and mess around. Of course, Bokuto was determined to go sledding while Kuroo was adamant about having a snowball fight, first. Just as you finished wiggling into your pants, Tendo creeped into the room. You paused, blinking at him once in surprise before giving a soft smile and curious head tilt, “what’s up, Satori-kun?” 

“I love you,” was his only response, face devoid of his usual mischief. His expression was unusual soft, round eyes half-lidded with his sullen disposition. It took seconds for the two of you to meet in the middle of you room, arms wrapping around each other with your face buried into his shirt. “You are my best friend and you can come to me for anything. _Anything_. Even if you just want me to bake something for you.” The notion of his taking a two-hour train ride just to make you food elicits a small laugh, because you can see him doing it without a single question asked. He wouldn’t even ask what you wanted; he knew all your favorites by heart. 

“I love you, too, Satori. Thank you for coming all the way out here for me.” 

His hands gently gripped your shoulder, pushing you back just enough for him to be able to look down and make eye contact, “don’t for a second think this was an inconvenience for me.” A lopsided smirk stretches across his face, one hand coming up to rest on top of your head, “Who else is going to make sure you eat real food?” Playfully rolling your eyes, you anticipate pulling away from him, but instead relish in his teasing words and comforting touch. Moments alone with Tendo had become a rare occurrence since you moved to Tokyo, and even if it were just a few minutes, you’d cherish them. 

“Want to help me tease Yuki?” 

“Oh, definitely,” he lets out a cackle that sends a shiver down your spine. He truly enjoys screwing with the pinkette far too much, but you can’t blame him. Yuki just makes it _so_ easy. You snag your jacket out of the closet before leading Tendo back out to the living room, where the rest of the guys are pulling on their layers. You smirk at them, bounding over and putting one hand on Bokuto’s shoulder with the other on Kuroo’s, using them as support as you leap. “I’m claiming my team for the snowball fight!” 

“Oya?” Bokuto grins down at you with a wild gleam in his eyes. “Not going to pick your boyfriend?” 

“Nah,” you toss a teasing wink to Ushijima, “it’ll be more fun to beat him.” Wrapping your arms around Kuroo and Bokuto’s waists, you add with a chirp, “besides! Us city rats gotta stick together.” 

Bokuto looks between Akaashi and Yuki, “you guys want to battle it out over who plays with -“

“Nope,” Yuki puts his hands up to signal his effortless defeat, “I am not getting in between a war with you volleyball freaks.” 

“Aw, Yuki,” Tendo strides up beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulder, “worried Bokuto will _take you out_ ~?” You and the redhead snicker in union at how quickly the violet-eyed male flusters, easily catching the teasing undertone regarding his crush. 

“I don’t think Bokuto would hurt him,” Ushijima states flatly, sending you and Tendo into a breathtaking fit of laughter. Yuki’s blush only intensifies as he curses the two of you under his breath. 

Huffing, you kick your boots off as you simultaneously rip off your hat and scarf. Your cheeks and nose are raw from the cold, but you feel like you’re burning up. Following the snowball fight, Bokuto and Yuki dragged everyone along to go sledding. Of course, they managed to find the biggest, steepest hill imaginable. The group quickly learned the slope was majority ice, the discovering occurring after Bokuto exuberantly jumped down the hill only to speed off at a lightning-fast rate due to the extra slickness. His sled had hit a small drift pile at the bottom, rocketing him into the air at least by a foot an and half. The sound of Kuroo’s belligerent laughter filled the air as he watched the two-tone-haired male flail and scream through it all. The spectacle was something to behold, even earning a rare snicker from Ushijima and Akaashi. “I thought I was going to die!” Bokuto simpers as he follows into the apartment with the rest of the boys, all quickly riding themselves of damp layers. Naturally, following his ‘near death’ experience, everyone was far more cautious. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of far more flesh than you expected. Your jaw nearly unhinges as you watch Bokuto shamelessly strut towards your balcony in just his boxers, carrying his shirt and pants out to hang over the rail. Pointing to him exasperatedly, you look to the rest, silently questioning them over his behavior. Akaashi just sighs and shakes his head, no longer phased by the boy’s antics. 

“It’s colder than before!” Your arms sail through the air before dropping to your sides with a muffled slap. 

Kuroo just snickers, mumbling, “I don’t think he even noticed.” 

“Bokuto, put on some clothes!” You hiss, grabbing one of black, white, and gold bags set on the couch and hurling it at him. 

He catches the bag with a huff before looking down and laughing nervously, “whoops.” 

Still with your last layer on, you drag the wet articles to the tiny laundry room, stuffing your items into the dryer. “Hey! I can probably fit some more in here.” Yuki is the first to arrive, reiterating once more how he lives here, before stuffing his snow clothes into the dry and quickly vanishing to his room to change. Ushijima and Kuroo both motion for Akaashi to take his stuff, neither in a rush. He thanks them quietly before filing into the small room and fitting his clothes into the dryer. “Hey,” you peak out to look at Kuroo, Ushijima, and Tendo, “put your stuff on top of the washer. I’ll put them in when the dryer is done.” They comply as you, much like Yuki, dart off to change into something that’s not damp in cold sweat. 

Changed into dry, comfortable clothes, everyone clamors into the living room to find a movie to watch. While the boys’ debate on what should be put on, you slink off to the kitchen to make hot chocolate and popcorn for everyone. Ushijima, from his end of the couch, sees Kuroo staring at the entrance of the kitchen. Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, the Nekoma boy had seated himself on the opposite end of the U-shaped couch. Sensing someone staring, he looks up to meet the inquisitive stare of your boyfriend. His lips purse and brows raise, a silent gesture to acknowledge the unspoken dialogue between them. Ushijima just nods towards the kitchen, encouraging Kuroo to go to you. He has no qualms over the two of you being alone, and he can tell how the other male wishes to talk to you. Kuroo gives a quick bow of his head in thanks before venturing into the kitchen. Once he vanishes, Tendo looks over to Ushijima and gives a small hum. As usual, he’s not sure what the redheads curious noise means, but he’s certain it has some underlying reason. 

“Hey,” Kuroo calls quietly as he enters, not wanting to startle you. 

You smile at him from over your shoulder, “hey!” He comes to your side at the stove, watching as you fiddle with the hot chocolate heating up in the pot. “I’m glad you came in! I wanted to thank you, for today.” 

His head tilts, “oh?” 

“Yeah! It really means a lot to me that you gathered everyone just to make me feel better,” you pour a little bit of hazelnut creamer into the pot, adding a bit of extra flavor to the mix. “I also wanted to apologize.” Kuroo chokes in surprise, a soft cough following his explosive eyes. Before he can even question what you have to be sorry for, you go on to explain, “I didn’t mean to react so harshly yesterday. I know you had to have been embarrassed, and I’m sure me bolting off didn’t help any.” You move the pot off the stove right before taking a bag of popcorn out of the microwave, dumping it into one of the bowls laid on the counter, “I wasn’t mad, or disgusted. It was just- I didn’t expect it. I never noticed that you .... liked me. So, I’m sorry, I should have handled it better.” 

“You don’t need to apologize or feel sorry. I should have told you when we talked at lunch. Or at any point before then.” The second half is a mumble, barely registering in your ears, but it is heard either way. Nothing more is said, Kuroo complacently watching as you fill six mugs with hot chocolate. You blanch at the multiple mugs and four popcorn bowls, it’s far too much to carry on your own. You look at Kuroo with pleading eyes and a desperate pout, “mind helping me?” 

He just chuckles, gathering three cups and 2 bowls into his arms, “anything for you, chibi-chan.~” He doesn’t miss the blush the adornes your face this time. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

“Holy shit!” Bokuto’s muffled voice shrieks out before he rips the balcony door open with a cackle, “you won’t believe this!” Everyone sits up in their seat, watching as he shimmies back in with his shirt from earlier. 

“Bokuto what-“ Akaashi never gets to finish questioning the peculiar behavior before Bokuto is attempting to wave the fabric, only it stays stiff. 

“It’s frozen!” To absolutely no one’s surprise, Kuroo and Tendo jump up to inspect the iced over shirt, each poking at it as if to test his claim. Tendo and Kuroo lock eyes before breaking out into wide grins and exclaiming a prolonged, “Dude!” They both run on to the porch to inspect the pants and other clothes to see if they met a similar fate. Watching as Yuki and Akaashi lose to their nipping curiosity, you snort a chuckle before leaning back against Ushijima. 

“Boys -“ 

“I would like to go see the frozen clothes.” 

You scoot away from him to allow him to unwrap himself from around you, watching him walk outside with an elated smile. “ _Boys will be boys_ ,” you tell yourself with no malice and the dumbest smile you can summon. 

It’s not long after the movie ends that everyone begins to filter out, needing to make their way back home. It’s still early, but you don’t mind. As much as you adored all your boys, there was one in particular you were hoping to spend some alone time with. Standing at the door, you watch as Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo vanish down the hall, shivering lightly from the cool air. The halls and stairwells always seemed to match the temperature, and humidity levels, as outside. Ushijima slides up behind you, running his hands up and down your arms to alleviate the goosebumps forming along your flesh. “You should take a shower to warm up.” 

“Sit in the bathroom with me?” The question fell from your lips with no thought to it, the request as natural as breathing. With a tiny smile and a nod, Ushijima follows you. Tendo and Yuki watched the two of you from the couch, passing each other shit-eating grins before returning to whatever anime they had put on. 

Just as the night before, Ushijima faced the door as you undressed. When the shower turned on, he didn’t turn around. He waited until he heard the curtain move, a sign you had entered the shower, and even then, never made a move to face you. He sat on the toilet, back still turned in your direction. For some reason, you knew he was still staring at the door, watching as the steam fogged the mirror hanging on the back of it. Unlike the prior night, the knowledge wasn’t so comforting. It felt unnatural, knowing his eyes weren’t on you felt hollowing. You wilted at the burn to your psyche. You despised the way you still felt dirty, tainted by someone’s unwanted touch. Exhausted of feeling ruined, of the traces of someone else on your body, a switch in your brain tripped. Take it back, your autonomy, your right to do what feels beneficial to you. And this, this wasn’t it. 

“‘Toshi,” he made a noise of acknowledgement, “do you want to get in with me?” 

“Do you want me to get in?” 

“I do.” He didn’t need to be told twice, and you could hear as his clothes began to fall to the floor. A minute later, he slipped in behind you, but he didn’t touch you. Even if his fingers ached to glide across your skin, as his chest tightened with the urge to hold you against him, he kept to himself. 

But that’s not what you wanted. You could feel the invisible marks on you, reminding you, tormenting you. You wanted them gone, you wanted them covered, erased by the touch of someone you loved. Someone you wanted. The person you loved to give yourself to. Turning to face him, your hands gently grasp at Ushijima’s before guiding them to rest at your hips. “I want you to touch me.” You let go of his hands, strangely comforted by the way he didn’t attempt to pull away from you. There was no uncertainty to be found in his expression, no questioning or judgement towards your desire. 

“Let me know if you become uncomfortable.” He waits until you nod before his left-hand slides around to the small of your back, guiding you a bit closer to him before he leans down to kiss you. The sensation of his lips slated against yours is refreshing, invigorating, and draws an appreciative hum from the back of your throat. Your hand reaches up, resting against his defined chest, but you only have moments to drink in the feeling of him beneath your hands. 

He lifts one from his chest, raising the palm to his mouth to place a kiss there. Ushijima kisses each pad of your fingers before trailing down your palm once more. He carefully rolls your arm over, continuing to place sweet kisses down your wrist and across your forearm. Plush lips worship every inch of your skin, covering you with his touch. It was exactly what you needed, everything you wanted, and he had no idea how much his desire to liberate you from the hold of another aligned with your own. 

The delicate way he handled you was foreign, rough love had always been the way of the warrior. As such, you’d known nothing else, not even during your first time. But having Ushijima treat you like a priceless artifact, diligent, meticulous, and with uncharted softness made every hair on your body rise with warm pleasure. It was like the breeze off the sea across your face, the mild heat of the autumn sun kissing the cold away, butterfly kisses that brewed flutters in your stomach. A pool of genuine love bloomed in you, making your thighs clench as he continued to cover you from head to toe in affection. 

You moan his name in a breathless whisper as his teeth carefully graze against your collarbone. He pauses, shifting viridian globes to take in your expression in effort to determine what may come out of your mouth next. Your own eyes were lidded, heavy in a mix of gentle lust that fared more intimate than carnal. “Please, don’t stop.” He returns to kissing and touching you with more gentleness than someone as strong and large as him should be able to exude. As much of a soft soul as Ushijima had, you didn’t think he was capable of such feather-light touch. Even the rough planes of his calloused hands felt smoother than normal. 

Smooth lips drag down the valley between your breasts, the tip of his tongue carving a heated trench into your damp skin. He follows the same line back up before kissing over the swell of your right breast, his open-mouthed kisses no less passionate than the ones from earlier. It’s when he nips at your skin that a new desire of the same nature arises. “‘Toshi, I need more.” 

“What do you need?” 

“Mark me.” 

He speaks against the inner side of your breast, “where?” He kisses the spot as he asks. 

“Everywhere.” You reach behind yourself, shutting off the water that had been cascading down your back. He waits to pick you up in his arm until after you both have dried off the slightest, promptly carrying you to your room and laying you on the bed. 

You watch as he shifts to the end of the bed, carefully wrapping his hand around your foot and dragging your leg upwards. He cranes down, kissing against the bone of your inner ankle before slowly working up. Not once do his eyes leave yours, full of a burning passion that screams his devotion and adoration towards you. He’s a man of few words, but his love for you is louder than the cheers at any volleyball competition. He speaks his love through actions, subtle things that display how he feels for you. And they are loud. Earth shattering. 

He sucks a mark against the tender flesh of your inner thigh, right above where your knee connects to your lower leg. Ushijima makes no specific pattern as he continues up your thigh, nipping and sucking as many marks as he wishes into you. He leaves one more right at the very top of your thigh before kissing up to where the limb connects into your hip before sliding back down the mattress and repeating the process on your other leg. 

You watch him with rapt attention, moaning with each patch of red he leaves in his wake. His attention to your body in unwavering, his hands rubbing the outside of your thigh as he forms wonderful bruises on the inside. Free hand rests against your hip, thumb tracing circles and figure eights. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, you breath hitches, watching as his focus finally shifts to your core. You half expect him to eat you out, and the want to do so is burning white-hot in his stomach. He resists the urge to lick and suck your glistening folds until you come undone on his tongue, because you asked him to mark you, and he has quite a bit of work cut out for him. 

Ushijima nips your hip bone before kissing up your stomach, fingers creeping against your ribs until they cup the sides of your breasts. He marks the underside of your left mound before shifting over to the right. One bite to the round outside of your tit, listening to you gasp as his teeth scrape against you. A mewl escapes as his tongue flicks over your nipple before he starts sucking and rolling flesh between his teeth. Hickies litter your right breast, three against the swell, two at the underside, and one on the side. 

As he works a few more dark circles into your collarbone, you raise your hips to grind against him. His rock-hard cock grazes your dripping entrance and he has to suck in a breath. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other cups his cheek to bring him eye-to-eye with you. While he has covered your body in evidence of his existence, it’s not enough. “Inside, too.” His face drops to the crook of your neck, a muffled groan escaping him. 

Maneuvering his arms to rest on either side of your head, Ushijima continues to hover over you. Your lips meet in a passionate lock as your hand reaches down and guide the head of his dick between your lower lips. 

The moan you let out as he slowly sinks into your velvet walls is louder than intending, but you can’t find it in you to care. Ushijima seems to have the same resolve, letting out a rumbling groan as he sheathes himself halfway in. He knows how large he is, and he has no intention of forcing you to take all of him tonight; he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

His cock drags through you in long, languid strokes that tease the walls of your tight pussy with every drag out. As he sinks back inside, wrapping himself in the tight heat, he can feel how you clench around him to drag him back in. Even as his picks up his pace and drives into you harder, he never lets his composure fail. The animalistic side you had seen the last time you had sex is trapped in an impenetrable cage. He’s focused on not just pleasing you but relishing in how you feel against him. The way you moan and mewl as his length touches every sensitive spot inside you. How you say his name with such care and grace, even as your fingers dig into his biceps as you grow closer to bliss. 

He wants to remember every second of the experience. The radiating love in your eyes, the way your lips part to pant in euphoria. How your hands move to rest against the sides of his neck, fingers brushing the short hairs at his nape. Watching you come undone beneath him is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, absolutely enthralled at how just the touch of one another was enough to bring you to a writhing mess. Never did he expect to have such a tender, deeply intimate moment like this. Not at this point in his life. Hell, he didn’t even expect to be in a relationship. They were distracting and could be messy, but for you, he would do anything. He loved volleyball, but you are his heart. There’s a sparkle in his eye, and his sport may be the one more frequently recognized, but it is completely overshadowed by his unwavering love to you. Volleyball will always be his passion, the thing he strives to be number one at. But his true love is you; always has been, always will be. Nothing could ever darken the way he sees you. Because to him, you are perfect. Even your flaws are perfect, they’re what make you, you. 

Your moans turn pitchy and increase in volume as he continues to pump in and out of you, your orgasm and heightened emotional stare making you far more sensitive. “‘Toshi,” the sound of his name brings him out of his reverie, gaze focusing back on the reality rather than just you. “‘Toshi, please, cum in me. I want it so bad.” 

He sits on his haunches, pulling your lap up into his thighs. His hands grip at your hips as he drives into you with more vigor, but still maintaining his restraint. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, enraptured at the noises his words bring out of you. Without thought, the words flow through him; how much he loves you, the future he sees with you, his desire to be by your side as you grow into the most amazing surgeon Japan has seen. How he supports you and wants to give you the world, the earth, the moon, and the stars. When he finally releases, he does it with a rattling moan that vibrates through to your core, the aftershock of his deep vibrato tearing another orgasm from you. 

As carefully as he can, he pulls out of you before lying down beside you, his hand wrapping around yours. Fingers intertwined, covered in a light sheen of sweat, your combined fluids dripping down your thighs, but it’s still not enough. You squeeze his hand and he rises, resting on one side with an elbow propping him up. Turning your head to look at him, you give a small smile that’s tinged with a hint of mischief, “I think you missed some places.” Watching the comment fly over his head, you giggle before rolling into your stomach, exposing your backside that’s completely free of any rising bruises. Ushijima simply leans over, placing as kiss against your shoulder blade before getting to work. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

The mirth coated grin Tendo wears as the combined noises of your and Ushijima’s activities filter into the living room only makes Yuki’s nostrils flare. “Do you think she’ll go to therapy?” 

How _that_ is the question that rings through Tendo’s mind, Yuki will never know. He can hardly focus on his own thoughts at this point, trapped between his newfound knowledge of what upset you so terribly and listening to you and your boyfriend make love. 

“I have no idea, but she should. She was talking about it after the training camp.” 

Tendo hums, remembering you discussing as such with him, “so, she never called, then?” 

“She looked up a few doctors, but never got around to contacting any of them.” 

The lanky male just nods before craning his head over to rest against his shoulder, arms folded loosely across his stomach. He shrugs, “she’s always hated starting with new therapists.” 

“What do you mean?” Yuki turns in his seat on the couch to face Tendo fully. 

“Middle school,” Tendo answers simply, as if it is enough to cue Yuki into his unspoken thought. Yuki just raises his brows skeptically, lost in the waves of untold secrets. 

His lithe fingers tap rhythmically across his abdomen, a pace of astonishment and uncertainty. “She had to see a therapist in our second year of junior high. Didn’t you know that?” 

“Sort of. I remember her saying she had to see someone for medication, but I never really questioned it.” Neon brows furrow as he sucks harshly against his teeth, “why did she go to therapy?”

“Yuki, she was taking anti-depressants. That month she was missing from school because she was sick,” Yuki nods, a bubble in his throat, “she was at an institution, under observation for attempted suicide.” 

“What?” 

“She had to go to therapy a lot after that. After her second therapist suggested she see someone else, she just stopped going. She hated having to start over and relive everything she’d been through.” 

“Well, fuck.” There was no question as to why your parents didn’t force you to continue going, there was a reason you and Yuki moved into an apartment the second you turned sixteen. He was lucky, born with loving parents who did everything they could to see him strive and succeed. They were loaded. They approved of you as a friend to Yuki and practically adopted you, even if they rarely saw you. When they learned the truth of your living situation, they didn’t hesitate to find an apartment in between the high schools you and Yuki attended. So long as the two of you continued to do well academically, they would cover your rent and bills. 

“She should go back,” Tendo reiterates as he sinks back into the couch cushions. “She could use it, especially with everything that’s happened.” Yuki can only nod in agreement. 


	13. In It Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (first) major turning point of the fic!   
> I did this instead of sleeping, cause I NEEDED to get this chapter up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in, get comfy, grab a snack, and prepare for some feels! This one is long and FULL of angst and suffering. Kindly based off my current life dilemmas, welcome back to the shit show!

The snow day was the last bit of freedom you had before cracking down on yourself. Your weeks were filled with schoolwork, prepping for Nationals, and working on improving your self-care. Weekends had become something of the past, studying for entrance exams with Kuroo absorbing all your time. The days merged, making it near impossible to tell a Saturday from a Tuesday. Rarely were you away from Nekoma’s campus, often finding yourself there early Saturday and Sunday mornings, occasionally returning for an evening practice, as well. 

Even with as understanding as he was, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty about neglecting Ushijima. You had no time to give him, regardless of who offered to travel to the other. There was no doubt his claim of just watching you study would satisfy him, but you refused to let him take a two-hour train ride just to watch you wrack your brains. Even the frequency you communicated through texts and phone calls had substantially declined. Daily conversations used to be the normal routine, but since starting to take entrance exams and getting wrapped up in the chaos of Nationals, your ability to respond had died. The longest it had taken you to respond was three days, and the gut-wrenching guilt it caused after you realized you forgot him ate you alive for days after. 

You hardly had time for the new stress relief method you picked up. Ushijima never asked what it was, settling on the fact you would tell him when you were ready. No one knew what you were doing, except Tendo. The redhead was quick to assure you the distance wasn’t a hinderance to Ushijima, and that both of them would rather see you continuing improving yourself than cut out something from your routine to fit them in. Of course, you took the claim with a grain of salt. You knew the distance was straining the relationship, making Ushijima feel unwanted and underappreciated. It was never the intention, never something you wanted to see happen, but your time management skill wasn’t up to par to perfectly plan your activities to make free time. Even if you managed to, you knew right now the time you did have set aside would end up being used for extra sleep. 

Draining. It was all draining, and as excited as you were to receive your final letters of approval or rejection from the universities you applied to, and to see your team go to Nationals, you couldn’t wait for it all to be over. 

“(Name)-chan!” You glance up at the bouncing ball of silver, resting your pen from your intensive notes to offer all attention to the excitable first year. Lev stops in front of you with a wild grin and bright eyes, “will you stay after practice? I want your opinion on some things!” 

“I’d love to, but I can’t today,” your apologetic smile is quick to appear, watching how quickly he deflates. “How about tomorrow?” 

“Okay!” Lev strides back over to his upperclassmen, confirming if they would be willing to practice with him tomorrow, as well. You watch as the three talk, giggling softly to yourself as Kuroo, undoubtedly, makes a teasing comment about Lev needing all the extra help he can get. Spinning around, Lev gives you an ‘okay’ with his fingers and a bouncy smile to match. 

“It’s not like you to skip personal practices,” Kenma notes, casually creeping up beside you. 

“I have a doctor’s appointment,” you answer, already knowing the statement was his way of asking why you were heading out early. 

His dark, thin brows furrow as his lips tug down at the corners, “are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah,” humming, you quickly mull over giving him more details, “it’s just a therapy session.” This time, Kenma hums, the ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth. It’s enough of a reaction to express his approval towards your decision. You had started going once a week following the snow day, fortunate enough to get in with the therapist two days after the day off. 

Admittedly, aside from the very first appointment, this was the only time you had been nervous to speak with her. You planned to bring up the development, or lack of, in your relationship and what the best way to proceed from here was. An idea was already planted in your mind, you just needed a second opinion on if it seemed reasonable. You considered bringing it up to Tendo, but ultimately decided against it. This was something you needed to figure out, and really already had, but wanted a second opinion. Someone unbiased who wouldn’t sway one way or the other due to being too close to that situation. 

Kuroo looked ready to approach you but was stopped as coach Nekomata blew the whistle for the boys to begin their cool down exercises. You offer a soft smile and quick wave, acknowledging his interest in talking to you. Glancing at the clock, your idea to wait for him to finish his laps is quickly abandoned. With eyes still locked on you, Kuroo watches as you point to your phone, a gesture for him to text you. He nods, then returns his attention to finishing his laps with the rest of the team. He knew about your therapy session every Thursday and preventing you from getting there on time was not something he was willing to risk. 

**~*~*~*~**

Aged orbs of caramel stared past you, the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes accentuated by her thoughtful squint. It was near the end of your session when you finally gained the nerve to bring up the issue that had been gnawing at you like a dog with a bone. She hummed in consideration, pencil tapping against the pad she had been taking notes in. Three minutes had ticked away in silence, but those short minutes held an eternity. Just as you were growing restless, ready to shift in effort to displace your anxiousness, she spoke. “It’s not an easy decision to come to, especially on your own. There’s no easy answer, either. Ultimately it is your decision, but I don’t see the harm in putting a halt to things.” Her stare finally lands on you, focusing on the object of her reflection, “you’re still working out your own problems, finding yourself outside of the world you’ve kept yourself trapped in. In a few months, you’ll be starting at University. That in its own can cause a lot of chaos.” Your head bobs along to her words, letting them sink in. Everything she is saying are things you have already considered but hearing them from someone else helps to make the decision more solid. “I agree, the break would be beneficial. Take time apart, grow into your new routines, and then see where things go from there. The relationship isn’t a bad one, and your boyfriend sounds like a wonderful young man. Allow time to come into yourselves before trying again.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Ajisaki.” Bowing your head in gratitude, you add, “I thought the same, I just - the reassurance is nice.” 

Upon exiting her office, you fish out your cell to find a text from Kuroo, asking how your session went. He never asked for explicit details, not wanting to force you to speak on anything you may not be comfortable with. There were quite a few times you had gone in depth with him, explaining her observations and insights while going over the topics you had brought up. This time was different. Telling him felt wrong, knowing there was someone else you needed to talk to first. Keeping this vague, you responded that everything went well and would update him later. Your phone vibrated against your palm, the sensation making you jump at the unexpectedness. Kuroo was always quick to respond to you, but never that fast. A smirk stretched across your visage as you look at the screen, a banner to signal a message from Oikawa across the front. 

**_Bakawa_ **

_Six more days!_

Cocking your head in confusion, you re-read the message over until it sinks in. _Six more days until nationals._ A snake slithers down your spine at the realization of what is to come. Like many of the third years you’ve come to know and love, you had decided to abandon volleyball following the completion of your third year. It was a decision you came to following a few intense sessions with your therapist. While you loved the sport, and were incredibly talented at it, it simply wasn’t for you. Your skill came from vigorous training with your grandfather, who had introduced you to the game. His love for it encouraged your interest and seeing his pride as how you excelled kept you involved. While he supported you fully in attending medical school, you’d never forgotten the look of agony he had when you revealed you stopped playing in order to focus on your grades. His disappointment in your break from volleyball was what helped encourage you to at least manage a team through high school. 

No matter the outcome, come the end of Nationals, you would be exiting the world of volleyball to continue exploring your own interests and passions. It was a bittersweet thought, breaking free of the world that introduced you to so many of the people you’ve grown to know and love. Without that 3000-yen ball of faux leather, you never would have met the colorful players of Karasuno. You never would have befriended the flirtatious brunette, the one responsible for your current emotional reflection. You may never have grown so close to Kuroo - well, maybe that one wasn’t entirely true, you conversed frequently in classes and at lunch, even before managing for the boy’s team. Volleyball may not have been yours, but the people it brought into your life certainly were. 

Kuroo, Daichi, Tsukishima, Bokuto, Oikawa, Akaashi, Kenma, Lev, Tendo, Iwaizumi, Semi, Ushijima. They were all your volleyball boys. Your friends, those who kept a special place in your heart, those you shared irreplaceable memories with. 

You sniffle, chuckling somberly as you swipe at the tears that had unwittingly started trickling down your face. “Damn, Shittykawa,” you lock your screen, unable to muster a reply for the time being. He could wait, you had enough heartbreak to deal with, without his unintentional reminder of you breaking away from everything you grew up around. If you were lucky, and accepted into your number one pick for University, you would be moving five and a half hours from the streets you had known for three years. Kyoto University was the prize in the sky, and you were mere days away from discovering if you would be attending your top choice. Kuroo and you had already been accepted to a plethora of colleges that you liked, but you both were holding out to see if Kyoto would accept the two of you. 

Refocusing on your phone, you send a text to Ushijima to ask how his day was. He had sent you a text in the early morning, wishing you a good day. You had been half asleep when you read it, and during the rush to get ready for school, forgot to message back. You knew it would be a while before he replied, likely on his evening run. He always went around the same time, part of his unshakable routine. Not that you could say much, having fallen into a routine of your own. Exercise had become an excellent way to burn off any pent up frustration, and your twice a week trip to the gym turned into a five day venture before you adapted the rotation once more, adding in classes that only Tendo knew about. Three days a week you were in the gym, spending at least an hour on cardio before dedicating an equal amount of time to strength training. Three days were dedicated to classes: two dance classes and a pole dancing class. Of course, as far as anyone was concerned, you spent six consecutive days at your gym. You left Sunday’s open for rest and relaxation. 

Ushijima responded just as you entered your apartment, darting to your bedroom to change before heading out to one of your classes. 

**_Ushi-love_ **

_My day was well._

_How was yours?_

**_(Name)_ **

_It was fine! On my way to the gym now._

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you contemplated the next moving. Talking to him was a must but doing it over text felt cheap and dirty. Even a phone call felt like an easy way out, impersonal and cold. But you refused to let him take a two-hour train ride to see you just for you to break his heart. Not that you were safe from the heart break of ending a relationship with someone you were helplessly in love with. It wasn’t a toxic relationship; he wasn’t a cruel and horrible partner. There was nothing wrong, aside from hardly having time for each other. That was the point of splitting, though. University would leave even less time for you to commit to Ushijima, and with him likely going to join a Pro team, his schedule would be just as chaotic. Aside from the nonexistent time for a relationship, you still had a plate full of discovering yourself and becoming comfortable with who you are. His complacency with never seeing or talking seemed genuine, but you knew it was as painful for him as it was you. At this point, you felt like you were simply tugging him around, giving him the hope of things falling into place. Eventually, they would, but now wasn’t the time for it to happen. There was no telling when it would, life would let you know, and you were content with setting him free. Nothing had created as hallow of a feeling in your body than the idea of losing the person you had grown to love the most, but it was for the better. He deserved the chance to find someone who could commit the time he needed, who could work with his schedule and was more flexible with their own to make time for a relationship. You had none to give, as much as you wish you did. For the first time in your life, you had decided to put your own health, happiness, and wellbeing above all else. It was a selfishness you deserved, a dedication to yourself that had been long neglected. 

**_(Name)_ **

_Sunday, you would mind if I came over?_

His response was immediate, an absolute declaration to ensure he’d like nothing more, before quickly asking if it would be better for you if he traveled to Tokyo. You refused the offer, claiming to want to visit Semi, Tendo, and the others while you were there. It wasn’t a lie; you did want to see your Shiratorizawa boys. Far too long had passed without spending time with them, and you longed to see their typical shenanigans. He sent back a simple, “okay,” before the conversation ended; your phone discarded in your bag as you hurried into your class. 

**~*~*~*~**

The next few days passed in a flash that blurred the lines of past and present, reality and imaginary. Ushijima’s agreement for you to travel to meet him on Sunday never saw a response until you had disembarked from the train in Miyagi, alerting him you had arrived and would be at the dorms in roughly fifteen minutes. Every step has your heart hammering harder in your chest until it felt ready to burst from its calcified confines. There was no proper planning to how you would do this; did you act as if everything was normal in order to enjoy quality time with your friends, then break the news? Or did you go in and rip right into it, then hope there was no awkward tension to scare the others away? 

Maybe this was a mistake, you could just - no. No. This was right. It wasn’t the end; you knew that in your heart. If what you felt for Ushijima was true, you’d make your way to him again. Like magnets pulled together, you’d find each other once more, when the time was right. 

He watched as you came closer, your tiny dot of a body sprouting more detail as you drew nearer. Ushijima could easily read the pained and anxiousness darkening your expression. So lost in your thoughts, you never noticed him. Even as his eagle eyes locked on you, all you did was stare through him, as if he were a ghost. It wasn’t until he side stepped, positioning himself in your path and grabbing your upper arms, effectively stopping you in your tracks, that you came to your senses. 

For the most part. 

As you looked up at him, face neutral aside from the minute crease between his brows, and the words tumbled off your lips almost robotically, “you’re the right person for me. You are my person. But it’s not the time for us.” 

“You want to breakup.” The way he said it, with so much poise and certainty, tethered you back to full reality. Your fingers brushes against your lips, questioning if you actually spoke the words that had been cycling through your jumbled mind. Your silence was enough of an answer, eliciting a short grunt from Ushijima, “I see.” 

“It’s not -!” Doe eyes plead with him to hear you out, even if you know he would never consider ignoring you or disregarding what you have to say. “It’s not because you did anything wrong, or because my feelings for you have changed.” Your hand reaches for one of his, dangling in the air as you wait to see if he’ll meet you halfway. He’s always been vehemently against public displays of affection, but in the moment, you can’t help but to hope he’ll grant you this one, tiny request. The torrent of utter rejection that curdles your stomach quells as his much larger hand engulfs yours. Piercing pine stares at you, patiently waiting to hear what you have to say, even if he feels like the earth is slowly swallowing him from below. “I love you, Wakatoshi. Truly, deeply, with my entire heart; I am in love with you. I always have been, but right now isn’t the time for us. There’s so much changing, so many new things about to flip our lives upside down.” Squeezing his hand tighter, your thumb begins rubbing along his knuckles, “I can’t handle a relationship right now, and it’s not fair for me to make you wait for me to find time.” 

“I see,” he reiterates from a few moments prior, chewing over your words. Your sincerity is palpable, and he doesn’t doubt you even for a second. As much as losing you pains him, even if it’s promised to be temporary, there’s no saying as to how long he’ll go on without you. Or if you’ll ever come back, especially after moving on to University and discovering others. Ushijima has never been one to deny you, you’re the center of his world. Volleyball is his passion, but you’re his fire. Volleyball is a driving force in his life, but you have always been the goal to strive for. He loves you as fiercely as he plays, and as much as he’d give up to keep you by his side forever, a little extra weight on his chest is worth watching you soar above the horizon. “I understand, (Name).”

“I - are you - is this - I’m sorry, I can’t -“ floundering about, incoherent strings of words fumbling over your lips, you can’t decipher a single thing to say. Ushijima has never been one to display his emotions on his face, they dance behind the beauty of his eyes. For once, you can’t pin down what he’s feeling, his steeled resolution meeting the windows of his soul and completely walling you out. 

His hand unlatches from yours, palm running over the length of your arm before settling against your shoulder, “I am fine, (Name). It’s a good decision.” It is, it’s what you need, and he knows that. Which is the only reason he is going along with it so easily, because Ushijima Wakatoshi could never, would never, deny anything you wished. 

Stunned speechless, all you can do is gaze up at him, tears quickly welling in your eyes. He watches as the liquid pools, and he can’t help to think of how your eyes remind him of two pieces of aquamarine glittering against an ocean floor. Treasure hidden in the depths of the open ocean. You jerk forward, arms wrapping around his waist as you dig your face against the front of his jacket, letting the tears flow free as you whimper against him, “I love you, Wakatoshi. I love you so much.” 

He just shushes you, smoothing one hand through your hair as the other wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. “I love you, too,” he whispers, placing a feather light kiss against the crown of your skull. 

Your exasperate cries melt down from his gentle ministrations, allowing your heartbroken babbling to become more coherent, “I don’t want you to think I hate you. I don’t! I never will. This just isn’t -“

“(Name),” the hand at the back of your head curls around to the front, his fingers delicately gripping your chin to make you look up at him. “It is okay. I know. It is all going to be okay.” 

Following the gut-wrenching experience with Ushijima, you can’t will yourself to venture into the Shiratorizawa campus to converse with your friends. Even if ending the relationship was your idea, it didn’t do anything to settle the numbing pain nestled deep in your chest.

Frost nips at your skin, clothes slowly dampening from the snow you didn’t bother to clear off the bench before sitting down. You feel numb, even without the cold licking up your back. Incessant buzzing from your coat pocket has you fishing for your phone, assuming it’s Tendo calling to ask _what the fuck_ happened. Oikawa’s contact name and picture flashes across your screen, and you watch as it rings before sending him to voicemail. The void in your stare is evident in your reflection as the screen goes blank and you’re left to gaze as yourself in the black glass. A minute later, another call from Oikawa comes in. This time, you allow it to ring five times before declining the call. 

Breaking your gaze from the phone, your vision flits around the motionless park. All life seems frozen, not even the chirp of birds filling the dead scenery. White blankets everything, a frozen cover of temporary lifelessness that reflects in your broken soul. Despite the snow days enjoyed with friends, you always hated winter. 

You phone comes to life once more, the only item within the sullen park that sings. You immediately decline the call this time around, hoping he takes the hint of wanting to be left alone. “You can be really rude, sometimes,” a voice pouts from close behind you, startling you to your feet. You whip around to find Oikawa and Iwaizumi, both bundled up for warmth from the bitter winter air. “I told Iwa-chan it was you on the bench, he didn’t believe me.” The warmth of his smile starts to dissipate the longer you stare at him in complete indifference. He shifts his weight before quickly regaining his cheery disposition, a toothy smile stretching across his face, “what are you doing here, manager-chan?” 

The nickname breaks you. Another, unintentional, reminder of you leaving behind everything to start over. Dropping volleyball, splitting from your superstar, volleyball playing boyfriend. The stone facade cracks, tears building as your lip and shoulder tremble. Oikawa and Iwaizumi pass quick, concerned glances at each other before returning their attention to you. 

“(Surna)-“

“It’s over,” you sob out, arms coming up to wrap around yourself. “It’s all over. I broke up with him.” 

Iwaizumi already has a hand wound up and ready at his side, dead set on unleash all wrath on Oikawa the second the omission croaks out of your throat. But when he looks to his side, Oikawa isn’t even there. He’s already wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he can without causing harm. The setter may hold a grudge against Ushijima, resent him for constantly beating him, view his as his fiercest rival, but that doesn’t change the fact that you love him. As selfish as Oikawa can be, as narcissistic and arrogant as he comes across, you managed to dig past his mask and find the real him. For you, he’s willing to overlook his distain towards the Ace to ensure _you_ are okay. 

Iwaizumi shares a soft smile with himself, watching as Oikawa gently rocks you from side to side with him, whispering words of comfort and encouragement to you that are no more than deep rumbles to the Seijo Ace. If it came down to a gamble and Iwaizumi had to bet on Oikawa’s reaction to you dumping Ushijima, he would have put all his money down on a theatrical celebration. For some reason, being proven wrong was all the more satisfying. 

“Come on,” Oikawa keeps one arm wrapped around you as he guides you towards Iwaizumi, “you’re wet and it’s too cold to be outside like this.” The pair tut you along with them, Iwaizumi keeping a more conservative distance with you while still managing to make you feel sandwiched between the duo. 

Swept up in your own thoughts, moving on autopilot, you hadn’t even noticed you were led to the home of Oikawa. It wasn’t until you were standing in the bathroom, your snow soaked jeans in hand, sinfully comfortable white and teal sweatpants that belonged to the esteemed setter, staring blankly at your reflection, that you finally came to. “(Name)-chan,” Oikawa called through the door, a knuckle tapping against to wood to ensure you heard him. “Is everything okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” scurrying to the door, you open it to find the brunette still standing there. He gives a smile upon seeing you. Not his usual, 1000-volt smile that sends his fans in a swooning fury. The smile that made you realize Oikawa Toru was not as bad as everyone made him seem. There was no doubt the boy was childish and self-centered, but there was more to him. Layers that ran so deep and warm, you were willing to let yourself get wrapped up in them. 

Since the events at the training camp you devised, you and Oikawa had grown considerably closer. He was quick to respond to any text you sent, and more often than not, you’d end up in a conversation with him over that phone that exceeded any length you’d be willing to speak to anyone else with. You were a notorious texter, if anyone was lucky enough to have you answer the phone, the conversation had a maximum time limit of fifteen minutes before you completely shut down. But with Oikawa, that was different, your conversations would easily last an hour before you knew it. 

He was someone you had come to trust, enough to tell him about starting therapy and trying to expand into other interests outside of just volleyball. You could see yourself loving Oikawa. Not in a romantic sense, but in the way you love a best friend. The way you hand yourself over to another, entrusting them with everything you have while never stepping over any untoward boundaries. He may be a playboy with a falsely over inflated ego to cover his insecurities, but the boy had a heart of gold. Something he had come to show you with ease. Aside from Iwaizumi, no one had managed to break down the walls of Aoba Johsai’s Great King, but you did it with such ease he had to question if you were even human. 

To Oikawa, you were an enigma. Something he so desperately wanted to pick apart, analyze until he could understand in totality. But it wasn’t possible, because you weren’t a simple subject that would be cracked open and investigated. Your layers were as endless as the reach you had. Everyone to cross your path found themselves caught in your web, one way or another. Be it your looks, that Oikawa was positive could ignite wars and cause chaos on their own, or your personality. Something, maybe everything, about you was like a spotlight to a moth. You were inevitable. You were a beacon in the dead of night, a buoy that stuck out amongst the toughest of waves, an oasis in the baren desert. You were something people flocked to, eager to discover everything you had to offer, but rarely did you present your true gifts. Kindness was something you rarely ran short of, much like your quick wit and sharp tongue, but kindness wasn’t equivalent to baring yourself for the world. Much like himself, Oikawa could see the walls you built around yourself; high as a stone castle, sturdy as a mountain, an impregnable watch tower wrapped in barbed wire. But he knew how to scour the walls, he could storm the castle, bypass every security measure you put in place. _Because_ he was the exact same as you were. 

“Iwa-chan made some tea,” his hand comes up, gently ruffling your hair, “come on.” Before you can say or do anything, he swipes your wet clothes, being sure to put them in the dryer before continuing to lead you to the kitchen. Following him idly, you glance around the walls of his home, scrolling over the various pictures lining the halls. Most are of Oikawa, his sister, Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and a younger boy that you recognize as Oikawa’s nephew. You never had the chance to meet him, but Oikawa spoke of him highly and frequently. It was adorable, the way someone like Oikawa fawned over their nephew, the way he seemed so naturally gifted in handling children. You fondly recall the first time Oikawa gushed about Takeru, your first thought being that he would make a great father in the future. If he ever managed to keep a girlfriend. 

The messy haired male at the table offered a simple nod in greeting before flicking a finger to one of the available cups he had set out. Naturally, you took the lone cup situated across from Iwaizumi and the other he had stationed beside him. Much to the surprise of you and the Ace, Oikawa seated himself next to you, dragging his cup across the table to rest in front of him. 

Blinking away his perplexed expression, Iwaizumi asked what had happened between you and Ushijima, “if you don’t mind me asking, of course.” 

The information spilled out like water through a floodgate, unable to keep yourself from overflowing. Nothing of the split was nasty, there were no hard feelings, no instances of cheating or anything else worthy of a scandal. There just wasn’t enough time for the relationship to work. No way to make time for anything intimate or of substance on a romantic field. As you let the truth of the situation float freely through the air, Iwaizumi couldn’t keep himself from glancing between you and his childhood best friend. Never had he realized just how similar the two of you were, not until your relationship ended for the same reason all of Oikawa’s did; there wasn’t time to split yourself from your passion. Despite their love for Oikawa being a profoundly skilled volleyball player, his girlfriend hated competing with a sport for his attention. There was no doubt the brunette cared for the girls he chose to be with, he just simply couldn’t separate himself from his passion. An unfortunate devise you seemed to harbor, as well. 

The smile he wore was to himself, visible only in his mind as he nodded along to your explanation. Perhaps there was a reason the two of you met, and even if not, Iwaizumi couldn’t deny the notion of you and Oikawa bettering each other. In a few short months, he would be heading to the states for college, effectively leaving his self-destructive friend to himself. But with you around, Iwaizumi didn’t have to worry about Oikawa being all alone. He knew, without a doubt, he’d make it through as long as he had you around. 

**~*~*~*~**

Warmth seeped into your every pore, from the still heated clothes you wore fresh out of Oikawa’s dryer, to the lingering steam of hot tea in your stomach. A warmth of relief had settled into you, as well. Talking with Oikawa and Iwaizumi about your view on the relationship was more beneficial than you imagined possible. Though, all your appreciation fell towards Oikawa, who refused to make any snide or degrading remarks about Ushijima. Unable to resist the urge, you had asked him why he was being so polite when you knew he hated the Shiratorizawa Ace. He had simply smiled and replied, “but you love him.” 

There was still a lingering emptiness in you, missing out on visiting the rest of your Miyagi boys. You skipped out on visiting those from Shiratorizawa, having awkwardly broken up with Ushijima in a fit of mindlessness. Karasuno was likely practicing, but for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to text Daichi or the other crows to see what they were up to. Even with the newfound sense of peace, going home to decompress and reflect on the events of the day felt more befitting. 

As if conjuring them from the mild guilt in the pit of your stomach, a flash of red catches you by the far side of your vision. Halting in front of the cafe window, you grin at the back of Tendo’s head. He has his back towards you, completely unaware of your presence as his head sways back and forth, wrapped fingers tapping jovially against the table. There’s no reason to stand there and watch him, but something keeps you rooted in place, absorbing the pure elation radiating off him. The smile wipes clear off your face, eyes widening in cold shock as you watch an all too familiar blonde join him. Tsukishima sits across from Tendo, a small scowl glued to his lips until Tendo’s fingers wave through the air. Red locks sway to the side as Tendo cocks his head, whatever he said forming a dusting of pink across Tsukishima’s pale cheeks. His honey orbs dart to the side, mumbling something as his fingers quickly graze over Tendo’s. In his effort to distract himself from the Guess Monsters shameless advances, Tsukishima locks in on you. 

A smug smirk has been etched into your mouth since the moment the blonde middle blocker sat down, and as you watch him quickly retract his hand from Tendo’s, you give a cheeky wave accompanied with a wiggle of your brows. You don’t have to be inside to hear the tsk he makes in response. Waggling your fingers at him in a final teasing gesture, you practically skip away before Tendo can pick up on the fact his date has been distracted by something -someone- outside the window. 

Maybe love ended for you today, but it seems to have a roaring start for others. 

**~*~*~*~**

“Kuroo, stop being a lazy shit and _help_ me!” 

“Jeez,” he groans, the sound tapering out into a wide yawn as he stretches his arms above his head. “I forgot how bossy you can be in the morning,” he pauses beside you, leaning down to whisper against the shell of your ear, “chibi-chan.” Every muscle goes rigid, forcing you to drop the bag you had just picked up, as ruby washes up to your ears. 

“S-shut up! Just, help.” He snickers, pleased with himself in his ability to fluster you before grabbing one of the larger gear bags. You mumble curses under your breath, snatching the bag off the ground once again before loading it onto the bus. 

As usual, you and Kuroo were two of the first to show up, greeting Nekomata before quickly beginning to gather everything needed for the tournament. The team had agreed to meet at the same time, per usual, to go over all the required material and a few team notes you had saved up. Of course, it wouldn’t be a normal game day if you and Kuroo didn’t show up at least thirty minutes early to go over everything first and leave practically nothing for the rest of the club members to do. “It’s good to see you two back on the same wavelength,” Nekomata chuckles, watching from the side as you and Kuroo continue to tease each other. 

The captain flashes an approving grin at the observation before locking your head in between his arm and chest, ignoring your futile flailing, “you’re telling me! I missed my little demon manager.” 

“Kuroo, I will bite you,” you hiss, scraping your teeth against his forearm to cement your threat. 

He lifts a brow before craning his neck down, closer towards you, “didn’t think you were into such kinky things, chibi-chan!~ Go for it, I won’t stop you.” 

“Isn’t it a little too early for your teasing, Kuroo?” 

“Oya?” The provocation master releases you as the vice-captain approaches, a bleary eyed Yaku in tow. “Rather have my skills focused on you, Kai-san?”

“Eat ass,” Yaku scoffs back. 

“He plays like it,” you quip back with a sly grin.

A hand comes up, covering Kuroo’s heart in mock hurt, “you bully me, so much, (Name).” 

“And you’ve shaved five years off my life. Haul ass, Captain.” Kuroo goes back to helping you load necessities into the bus, but his relentlessness doesn’t let up a lick. 

“Aw, come on, I’ve brought some stuff to your life!”

“Stress, you have brought me insurmountable levels of stress.” 

“But you love me.” You look over at him, sighing at the pout he gives you. 

Breaking out into a smile, you agree, “I do. Even if you’re the reason I’ll end up in an early grave.” 

Finished loading the bus, corralling the boys into the gym, and going over some technical pointers to improve plays, the only thing left was the brief motivational speech you had. But an excitable comment from Lev quickly derailed your train of thought, “I’m jealous! Next year Kuroo-san gets (Name)-chan all to himself!” 

“Whatever school you go to will be lucky to have you,” Inuoka added with a smile. Your lips parted to say something, but all the wind left your lungs as you felt Kuroo sling an arm around your shoulder. 

“We’ll be unstoppable with her!” 

“Actually, um,” clearing your throat once, you straighten your body out before speaking clearer. “After Nationals, I’m stepping back from volleyball.” A cold silence falls over the bodies surrounding you, a mix of shock and disbelief evident on every face. “I loved playing in junior high, I have adored managing for Nekoma, but there is more for me than a sport that has never, really, been my own.” Side stepping out of Kuroo’s grip, you look across at each player before continuing, “watching you, supporting you, and befriending all of you has been an honor. Nothing has brought me more joy than managing this team, getting to witness your passions and skill grow, being right on the side of the court as you -“ 

“As we,” Kuroo corrects, refusing to allow you to think your efforts didn’t help get them this far. 

“ _As we_ qualified for Nationals. No matter what happens today, whether we win Nationals or not, I will never be disappointed in you.” The grin that pulls taunt across your plush lips creates a static in the air, an unspoken buildup to whatever you had planned next, “but there is one thing I am certain of. This is the year we finally have our Battle at the Trash Heap. The cats will be going head to head with the crows,” glancing a Kuroo, you mirror his feral smirk, “and there won’t be any other match like it.” 

“We’ll win,” Yamamoto starts, tears brimming against his waterline, “we’ll win for you, (Name)-chan!” 

Holding up a hand, halting the rowdy cheers building in everyone’s chest, your voice comes out softer, “I’m not requiring a win from you all, as incredible as that would be. Truthfully, if we lose, I can live with that. What I want from all of you is everything. Everything you’ve worked on, fought for, pushed yourself through more intense training for; that’s what I want. Give it your all, give me even more of a reason to brag about managing for the amazing players of Nekoma.” Collectively, as if trained and prepared for your words of praise and encouragement, the ten boys bow at the waist, a synchronized “hai!” yelled out in boundless enthusiasm. 

Concluding your speech, everyone files onto the bus, ready to set off to the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. Seated in the back with Kuroo, you situated in the window seat, you both pull envelopes from the insides of your track jackets. A day prior, you both received a letter from Kyoto. As soon as you saw the letter sitting on your bed, you called Kuroo, who just as excitedly announce he received his. You both agreed to wait until after the last match of Nationals to open them, but yours felt like it was burning a hole through your pocket. “I want to open it.”

“We will,” Kuroo chuckles, slyly snatching the envelope from you before tucking both away in his jacket. “After Nationals.” You groan, slinking down in your seat until your chin rests against the top of your chest. 

“What if I didn’t get in?” 

“You did.” 

“But what if I didn’t? You’ll still go, right?” 

He scoffs, “and what makes you think I got in?” 

“If any nerd got accepted to Kyoto, it’s you.” Sitting back up, you look at him with a pleading stare, “if I didn’t get accepted, you should still go.” 

“Absolutely not.” He turns in his seat, facing you head on. “We promised to go to med school together. We got accepted into every school we applied to. If Kyoto denies us, either of us, we go to our second choice.” He holds out a pinky finger, mirthful grin pointed at you, “we’re in it together.” 

Your finger loops with his, fists forming, hands shaking before you both kiss your thumb tucked against your balled hand, “together,” you repeat. Your thumbs stretch across your knuckles until the pads meet, sealing your promise to each other once more. 

**~*~*~*~**

“Kei-kun,” you greet, your voice a singsong chirp as you stare at him knowingly. 

“Say nothing,” he hisses, crossing his arms over his chest as he glowers down at you. A snicker slithers out despite your best effort to contain it. 

“First time?” 

“No.”

“How long?”

“Two weeks.” 

“What are they talking about?” Hinata whispers to Kageyama, chestnut orbs bouncing from Tsukishima to you. Kageyama just shrugs, watching in baffled amusement as the two of you have an entire conversation that alludes to absolutely nothing. 

“It was a pleasant surprise,” you giggle. 

“For you,” his displeasure at you stumbling upon his date with Tendo alarmingly high. 

Flashing a reassuring smile, you say to him in a softer tone, “I’m not trying to make fun of you, Kei-kun. I’m happy. Honestly, it brightened my day.” 

One of his brows raise in quizzical skepticism, “why?” 

You shrug, “you don’t want that answer right now.” 

“Tell me.” His tone is authoritative, declaring his ability to handle you - most likely- outing his very new relationship. 

“You two are important to me, Satori especially. Seeing the two of you together, and looking so comfortable, it was nice. It was a win for love that day.” You don’t mention your split from Ushijima, not wanting to put a damper on the light mood your words created. Tsukishima glances away from you with a scowl, but the crimson tips of his ears give away how much your words truly meant to him. 

“(Name),” you peer over at Kuroo, who proceeds to wave for you to follow the team as they make their way towards the gym, they’ll be playing in against Kiyokawa. Quickly waving goodbye to the Karasuno boys, you speed walk to catch up to Nekoma. 

**~*~*~*~**

“Nekoma is doing great!” Tendo notes with a bounce, absorbed in the game displayed on the laptop screen. The third years had gathered to watch the Spring Interhigh matches, curious to see how your team and Karasuno would fair. 

“Think they’ll face off?” Semi asks, not giving any context, confident in everyone’s ability to know exactly who he’s talking about. 

Ushijima nods, reading between the lines for once. Tendo, on the other hand, gives a verbal response stating he knows they will. 

“(Name) had told me about how hard the team was training. I don’t think their goal is to even win Nationals, they just want to face Karasuno.” 

“Yes, (Name) said that was their focus.” 

“Speaking of the little minx,” Semi grins over at his Ace, “wasn’t she supposed to have visited us over the weekend?” Words laced with provocative intent, he asks, “you try to keep her for yourself again?” 

“She did visit.” 

“Oh?” Ohira tilts his head back, staring at the brunette positing behind him, elevated by his bed. It was unusual for you to venture all the way out and not make rounds to greet all of the club members. 

“We broke up and then she left.” Ohira feels the color drain from his face, mouth falling agape. Tendo wheezes, the noise equivalent to that of someone taking a full force hit to the solar plexus. 

“You _what_?” Semi watches Ushijima unblinkingly, half debating if this is a horrible joke. 

“We broke up,” Ushijima repeats blandly, slowing his words as if they were incomprehensible the first time. 

Tendo jumps to his feet, adrenaline soaring as he tries to decipher if he’s furious or in excruciating pain. The question comes out as a hiss, “how? Why!?” 

Ushijima, taking the question far too literal, answers casually, “she took the train.” 

Tendo stretches over Ohira, grabbing Ushijima by both shoulders, his fingers curling roughly against the fabric of his jacket, as he repeats through gritted teeth, “ _why_?” 

Ushijima’s brows furrow a fraction, olive eyes scanning over Tendo’s face. There’s no doubt he’s upset about the newfound information, but Ushijima can’t figure out why. Rather than question Tendo’s outburst of negative sentiment, he answers, “she thought it was best. We didn’t have the time to give each other.” Semi slowly stands, not wanting to startle Tendo into thinking the blonde has hostile intentions, while Ohira places both hands out in effort to block himself if the redhead becomes irate. Fortunately, he relents, releasing Ushijima as he backs away, arms dropping limp at his sides. 

“Did - are you two okay?” His misplaced anger quickly dissolves into concern, genuinely worried for his two friends. It had been a few days since then, and neither of you had mentioned anything about it. Of course, your conversations with Tendo had slowed just as they had with Ushijima. He should have seen this coming; he should have tried to talk to you and understand what was going through your head. Even without Ushijima delving further into detail, Tendo already figured out the reasoning behind everything. 

“We are fine. We are still friends.” Semi cringes as Ushijima says it, the term “friends” far too casual for him when he pictures the two of you. 

“Are _you_ okay?” Ushijima stops to consider the question, somehow unable to pull his attention away from for forlorn expression Tendo wears. He can see how his bright, vermillion gaze seems darkened by the unfavorable news. His lips part to answer, but for some reason, no words manage to come out. As if the single word he wanted to respond with shriveled up and died in his throat. Vision blurring, a million thoughts run through Ushijima’s mind. 

_Is_ he okay? He’d like to say so, pretend that just being friends with the woman he loves is something he can tolerate with ease. But it’s not that easy, not after being given a taste at what being with you is like. It was paradise, one short lived and with a high so immeasurable the crash feels indescribable. He wants nothing more than to have you by his side, hold you in his arms, curl his fingers through your hair, pepper your beautiful face with his affection. But he gave it up, without a fight, without dramatics because that wasn’t like Ushijima. He wasn’t selfish, he wouldn’t beg for you to spread yourself thin for him. No, he’d willingly let you go if it was for your betterment. If it meant it felt as if his heart stopped beating, if his blood ran cold, if his passions froze over with the bitter remnants with all the love he had to give.

 _Oh_ , and it was endless, the love he has for you. 

No, Ushijima was not okay. He was heartbroken, ignoring his pain in effort to aid you from feeling any more guilt than you already did. There was no question or doubt in his mind, Ushijima knew you loved him just a fiercely as he did you. That didn’t take any of the pain away, it didn’t dull the sting in his chest, or the sudden fire behind his eyes. 

It quells when he blinks, but now he feels it rolling down his cheeks in a quick lick of wet anguish. His face never cracks, his lip never trembles, he remains unmoved, a tree rooted to the sole of earth in the midst of a hurricane. And even as the tears continue to spill down his statuesque mask, his voice holds strong and smooth as if everything were normal, “I am fine.” 

Perhaps Ushijima does know how to lie, no matter how unconvincing it is. 

No one dares to make a move towards him, offer an act of comfort, in fear of breaking whatever impenetrable mask Ushijima devised. Even Tendo is filled with trepidation and uncertainty, mystified where to go from this point. He’s never handled a distraught Ushijima, never seen him emote anything beyond the subtle displays he’s always given. Tension piles in his chest, pressurizing the area until his heart feels like it will seize under the weight. He takes a shaky breath in, forcing his lungs to suck in the oxygen they had been deprived of in his state of crumbling suspension. White hot static fills him, the suppression of his own crestfallen emotions overbearing as he forces a promising smile and croaked hope of, “in the future.” 

A commotion from the forgotten laptop reels everyone from their inconsolable reality, sucking them back into a familiar world of a sport most have left behind, but still hold close to their heart. On the screen, Nekoma celebrates their victory, the players huddling on the court in a sign of elated gratitude. A quick pan to the sidelines shows Nekomata with a grin from ear to ear, his hand squeezing their managers shoulder in reassurance. You stand with your clipboard tucked under your chin, a soft smile cracking across your face, giving a glimpse at the joy you feel buried under the weight of your slowly lifting anxiety. 

“In the future,” Ushijima mimics, holding on to a notion he has little faith in. Not because you don’t love him, not because you don’t miss him, but because you’ll be moving on in your life. University is bound to bring opportunities, and knowing your dedication and intellect, they’ll be endless. Romance won’t be difficult for you, either. With looks to put most to shame and the ability to pull anyone in without even trying, you’ll have a line of suitors begging for a chance. You’ll be swept up in your academics and growing passions, meeting those with interest that match your own far better than Ushijima’s. In his mind, you were something unattainable to the general public. How he even managed to steal you away for a few months was a mystery. You deserved someone just as otherworldly. In a world of shooting stars, people skating by on hot air and light that died out far before their arrival, you were the sun. Shining bright and burning hot with life and promise. 

Oikawa’s dream was to set the moon, but Ushijima’s was to walk on the sun. 

**~*~*~*~**

“Dadchi!” You squeak from the sidelines, waving as the rest of the team files onto the court. He waves back, Sugar snickering beside him as the gray-haired setter lays amused eyes on you. The wave is friendly, as is the smile you wear, but there’s a competitive wickedness spewing from behind bright orbs that sends a line of fire down the two third years back. Karasuno and Nekoma had made it to the third round, and the fated battle between feline and avian was causing a commotion on and off the court. It was the first time in years the rival schools had faced each other at the National level, and the notion sent a fresh charge of electricity through every soul spectating. Not only was it the first in a while, the skill and dexterity both teams exhumed made for a more than promising match sure the erupt the entire stadium in an uproar. 

For the first time in your management career, you put down your pencil and clipboard. Forgoing any note taking, any score keeping, any statistical analysis. This time, you _watched_. You cheered, you chewed at your knuckle in nervous anticipation, you finally enjoyed a game. There was no shame in you, your normally cool and collected exterior crumbling to ash as a Phoenix of school pride arose. You chanted and sang with the cheer squad until your throat stung with raw over-usage. You gasped and winced every time Karasuno scored a point. This was your last game, your last day as a manager, and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t the most incredible sendoff you could have ever received. The loss didn’t even sting, your joy for the Karasuno boys you had grown to love overpowering your untimely defeat. But the most beautiful thing? 

Sportsmanship. 

A new sense of pride filled you as Kuroo pulled Daichi in for a hug, congratulating the captain on an unforgettable game and outstanding win. You bolted across the court, zigzagging through the boys to reach the other side. None of them spoke a word as they watch you and Kiyoko embrace, tears slipping out the corner of both of your eyes. She still had a bit more time to relish in her position, but even she knew the end was quickly approaching. That thought seemed to run collectively between the third years, each - on and off the court - passing glances to each other that spoke of their fondness and gratitude. 

The moment Nekoma exited the locker room, Kuroo beelined for you, wrapping a hand around your wrist and dragging you away with him. Once secluded in a stairwell devoid of any spectators or general foot traffic, he handed you the letter from Kyoto. Glancing down, you realized it was addressed to him. He didn’t give you the chance to ask, wrapping his hand around yours, enclosing the future between your interlocked palms. “I want you to tell me what after graduation has in store for me.” 

You laugh, attempting to avoid the crushing intimacy of the situation, “med school, Kuroo.”

His grip tightens for a moment, his face steeled as he stares down at you. There’s no teasing lilt to be found, no smug smirk or devious glint in his almond shaded irises. “(Name), I want you to tell me if we’re going to our top pick together. I want you to tell me our story doesn’t end here, or after graduation. I need you to tell me that I have another six years with you gracing my life every single day.” 

“K-Kuroo,” his words stick to your heart like darts, perfectly aimed and landing with expert precision. It’s enough to make your eyes swell, vision spotted by a veil of tears as your heart slams against your ribs. 

His hand leaves your, opting to cup your cheek and guide your face up to look him in the eyes, “I want my best friend by my side for this. There isn’t anyone else I can see myself making it through this journey with. There’s _no way_ I can do this without you. So, please, tell me where we go from here.” 

Words bubble in your throat, but they pop and leave your mouth dry before becoming anything audible. So, you nod, tearing yourself away from his face to rip open the letter with shaky hands. You scan the words typed on the letterhead paper, but there’s no answer you can give. Crumpling the sheet of white in your fist, your forehead collides with his chest as you sob into him. It only takes a moment before your body is pressed flush against his, arms wrapped around each other as the unspoken results hang in the air. 

The only thing ringing through either of your minds, _in it together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now excuse me while I go sob because USHI ;.;  
> Writing this broke my heart as much as it relieved me of my own conflicting emotions.   
> Thanks for sticking through with me this far! I hope everyone is ready for the post-graduation arc that starts next chapter! 
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments! I love reading and responding to them.   
> Also, if you would like updates on current works and insights on up-coming projects, follow me on twitter @VictoriaWitch2.  
> If you would like to join in my weeb nonsense and simpfest for the great Ushijima, follow me on Tiktok @only_ocs.


	14. Rhythms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Welcome to the college arc of the series!   
> I would like to apologize in advance if the updates slow down for this series through the month of October. I stupidly decided to do a horror collection ..... two weeks before October arrives. So, I am scrambling to get shit done.

Graduation came and went in a fury of tears, breath stealing hugs, and bittersweet goodbyes. You spent the break between graduation and starting at University spending time with your current and former volleyball boys, learning more about the interest’s others had outside of the sport while supporting those who continued in it. Bokuto and Ushijima often invited you to their practices, making you familiar with the members of the Black Jackals and the Adlers. Tendo and you cooked and baked weekly, traveling between each other’s apartments for the bonding time. He went to watch one of your dance recitals, only able to say it was a sin to view you do such unholy movements with a smile stretched across his face. He was still the only one you trusted to show the passion you had found, having joined an exotic dancing troupe. They traveled around frequently for performances, but none of the members were required to attend them. You stuck with attending those close to home, opting to save the international travel for a less hectic time. Of course, Tendo and Yuki encouraged you to attend one that took you over to the states for a week. Las Vegas, Nevada. God, how you wished you had any of the boys with you. The trouble you would have gotten in with them would have been far more thrilling than the mild chaos the girls wreaked. You doubted anyone could compare to your group of heartbreakers, though. 

Excelling in pole dancing, you started to attend competitions for it. You never invited anyone to them, opting to keep that skill for yourself. Or maybe as something to bust out at a random time to floor your friends. You took advantage of a few “amateurs’ nights” at strip clubs in the states, using your practiced skill to clean up and come home with a few extra thousand in your pocket than you had upon departure. 

The most exciting thing about the break before starting your six-year venture in medical school? The surprise trip Kuroo planned to the beach, featuring Bokuto, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Suga, and Tendo. He had tried to get Ushijima on board with the trip, but he ultimately couldn’t afford to miss any practices as he had a game coming up during the week and a half you would be away. Naturally, Tendo sent him endless pictures of your adventures, including a video narrated by Bokuto of you and Tendo working on a dessert. Caramel apples were one of your favorite foods, sensitive teeth unable to handle overly sweet treats. Caramel apples offered just enough sweetness to satisfy any craving while the sour bite from the green apple curved it from being overwhelmingly sugary. Having a passion for baking, and his best friend, Tendo was determined to create a caramel apple centric cake, something that combined both desserts without going overly sweet. The first one was painstakingly bitter, your cheeks hallowing as Tendo’s lips puckered into a tight ring. The second attempt, far too sweet, making you gag the second the fluffy cake touched your tongue. He swore to perfect it one day, and when he did, he’d present it to you as a gift. 

You didn’t doubt him. 

The rest of the trip was full of swimming, sightseeing, watching the boys play beach volleyball, and drinking at the beach house Yaku had been gracious enough to offer. It belonged to his uncle, who trusted everyone enough not to damage anything. The nights were full of drinking games and dancing, you and Oikawa dominating majority of the second half. Until a Latin song came on and Bokuto, Daichi, and Kuroo sat the brunette setter down with moves you couldn’t fathom any of them exhuming. Naturally, you joined, blowing them away just as much as they had you. The only rest you had during the trip was when everyone gathered to watch the Adlers game on television, you and Tendo screaming the entire time, cheering on Ushijima, even if he couldn’t hear or see you. It didn’t stop Bokuto and Kuroo from recording the two of you and sending it to the spiker. 

The biggest surprise came a week after moving into your dorm when classes finally began. Tendo and Yuki helped you move in while Bokuto and Daichi helped Kuroo, you and he occasionally running over to see how the other was doing with their unpacking. The Kyoto campus was easy to navigate, and your buildings were right next to each other. Your schedules overlapped quite a bit, sharing almost all your classes together. The surprise came the first class of the day, you and Kuroo situated beside each other, patiently waiting for the rest of the students and the professor to arrive. Occasionally, you glanced away from the noirette beside you to inspect the other future doctors. When a familiar mop of swooped chestnut and almond eyes met your own, your jaw unhinged. “Oikawa!?” Kuroo’s head had snapped in the direction you were focused on, his own expression matching the profound sense of amazement you did. 

Oikawa had waved, a soft smile that reflected his excitement to see you, “(Name)-chan, Kuroo.” You waved for him to join the two of you, and he’d drop dead before refusing the offer. Naturally, you grilled him about why he never mentioned coming to Kyoto after he had first learned you and Kuroo would be attending the University. He only giggled, stating it would be more dramatic for you to see him in class one day. 

He was right, of course. 

**~*~*~*~**

**[Four years later]**

“This doesn’t seem to get any easier,” you grunt as you flop onto the couch, your face stuck between the crack of two cushions. Oikawa gives a noncommittal hum in response, dropping his bag onto the floor before collapsing into the seat near your feet. The two of you had finished your last class for the day and had decided to go back to your dorm to study. Upon arrival, you both collapsed under the weight of exhaustion, mentally and physically. Oikawa had two hours until volleyball practice began, and you had an equal amount of time before you needed to be at one of your dance classes. “Studying was a valiant idea.”

“But it’s not happening,” Oikawa finishes with a whine, gently kicking at the book bag by his feet. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a pout. Showering to wake yourself up was pointless when you’d just have to take another when you got back in and sleeping would ruin the meticulous schedule you had forced your body to accept. Eating was the best option, but as your head craned back to look over at the kitchen, you couldn’t find the energy to commit to such a task. As if on cue, Oikawa’s stomach rumbles, sealing your idea for nourishment. Cooking something was completely off the table, though. 

“Kuroo gets out in twenty,” Oikawa notes, as if reading the thoughts crossing your mind. Without a second thought or word spared, you whip out your phone and text him, asking if he would mind bringing you and Oikawa something to eat. Closing out of your texting app, you catch a glimpse of the date. 

“Fuck,” you whine, locking the screen and letting the device drop unceremoniously to your stomach. “It’s Thursday.” 

“So -oh!” It was Thursday, Kuroo’s designed weekday to spend with his girlfriend before running to practice and staying the night at her dorm. Oikawa could cry, his stomach cramping with unfulfilled desire. “He’s not coming, is he?” It’s a statement disguised as a question, and all you can do is grunt once more as your eyes shut. Working up the will to move, let alone cook, is far more daunting than you’d like to admit. Just as you sit up, your phone vibrates against your lap, where it had fallen in your rise to suffrage. 

“Oh!” It comes out as a high chirp, encouraging a raised brow of curiosity from Oikawa. “He must really love us, he’s coming!” 

“A saint, a god, a grace from the heavens -“

“Shut up or I’ll tell him not to bring you anything.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he shifts his eyes to the side, slightly tilting his head to look at you, “he loves me too much to listen to you.”

“No one loves you,” you scoff, texting over your usual order to the ex-captain. You had Oikawa’s memorized to the amount of spice he liked. 

Oikawa pokes at your calf teasingly, “you love me, though.” 

You hum, still typing, “you’re right. I do love you, Tōru. Oh -“ you send the food request and shift to glance at him, “you’re getting the door when he gets here.” 

“You bitch!”

“It’s my kink,” you snicker with a shrug before collapsing back once more. 

“Funny,” Oikawa rests his head against the back of the couch, eyes still trained on you, “I pictured you being a bottom.” You shriek at him to shut up, delivering a halfhearted kick to his thigh. 

“Besides,” you add, straining your neck up to watch as he rubs at where you hit him, “it’s called being a brat.” 

“Still a bottom,” he mutters under his breath, just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

You scoff, sitting up and crossing your legs, hunching over them with your elbows against the side of your knees, “cause you’re such a top?” 

He practically purrs, “why don’t you find out?” 

“Shittykawa, I will beat you senseless.” 

“Iwa-chan?” He jokingly glances around the dorm, biting back a smirk as you exasperatedly throw your hands over your head. “You know, I actually do miss him.” 

“He’s coming back at the end of this year. We’ll see him soon.” 

“Ugh!” He stands, his hands flailing about, “that’s so far away!” 

You nod in agreement, shifting to sit normally on the couch with your back pressed against the supporting cushions. While these past four years have flown by, they’ve dragged on just as much. You knew medical school would be grueling, and with clinicals beginning next year, you wouldn’t mind everything slowing down. It felt like you didn’t have time to breathe, even if you nearly perfected your time management. Your first year you barely had time to sleep, let alone fit in your dance classes and occasional competitions. Missing two months of dance and pole dancing was what finally made you sit down and begin planning time slots for tasks outside of classes. By your third year, you managed to work out more time to spend with friends. While you mostly stuck around Oikawa and Kuroo, you figured out how to make time to travel to catch up with others like Tendo and Tsukishima, Daichi and Sugawara, Bokuto, Akaashi and Yuki, and Ushijima. Though, it had been almost two years since you had actually been able to see the olive eyed man in person. His schedule was hectic since becoming a pro athlete, not to mention the magazine cover shoots, interviews, and television appearances. It seemed every time he managed to have time to catch up with you, you had class and couldn’t make it to meet. The video chats were nice, but they weren’t as satisfying as seeing him in person. 

“We should go out when he gets here!”

“Aw, gonna ask Iwa-chan on a date, Tōru?” 

“He wishes,” he sneers, rolling his eyes at your comment. Before you came make any snarky retort, his face lights up as a thought strikes through him. “Hey! Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” 

“Hm?” You think about it before waving your hand to dismiss the idea. “Oh, thanks. I’ve got to text him to cancel.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s boring. I’m not interested.”

“You’re not really interested in anyone,” Oikawa chuckles. He’s not wrong, since your split from Ushijima, you haven’t had a relationship. You had gone back to flirting to pass time, no intentions of taking anything further than the stage of witty comments and teasing passes. Approaching the end of your fourth year at college and you had only had two flings, neither lasting even a month before you dropped them. It was easier not to get involved, and beyond dick, they didn’t interest you. Sometime during the middle of your first year, that burning desire for Kuroo came back, but he had his own flings going on. You felt as if you lost your chance with him, watching as he indulged in satisfying quite a few of the girls after his heart. Just when you gathered the nerve to finally say something, both of you finding a rare time when neither of you were tied up with another, he told you he actually started dating someone. An actual, committed relationship with titles and claims on the other. 

Oikawa watches as you zone out, clearly lost in thought. He knows about exactly what it is filing your brain, he was there for you when you cried over the loss and unspoken rejection. You’d waited too long and someone else got him, and now there wasn’t anyone you wanted. Not romantically. Kuroo had been with his girlfriend for a little over a year, and it had been a few months longer since you’d as much as slept with someone. He can only frown, wanting desperately to tell you not to give up just yet, but he doesn’t want to give you false hope, either. It’s easy to see Kuroo is in love with his girlfriend, his devotion and loyalty to her enough that his teasing you had become so accustomed to dwindled down to almost nothing. Oikawa had said it out loud a thousand times, and he would continue to think it until the day some otherworldly power made it happen; he wanted to see you and Kuroo together. The passion was there, you were perfect for each other, and the sexual tension still sparked when given the opportunity. 

“Open the door, bumasses!” Kuroo’s voice calls from the other side, his foot tapping against the bottom of the wood. Without needing your encouragement, Oikawa rises to his feet to open the door. He tries to take the food from Kuroo, your dazed expression burned into the front of his consciousness, but the bedhead pushes past him to bring everything in. “I got myself something, figured we could eat together.” Snapping from your somber thoughts, you pass him a smile and nod before getting up to walk over to the kitchen. You and Oikawa sit at the tiny counter while Kuroo stands on the opposite side, pulling out everything and organizing it in front of everyone. A comfortable silence fills the air, albeit twinged by a sliver of awkwardness as Oikawa glances between you and Kuroo. Unknown to the newly arrived male, you and Oikawa are still lingering on the unspoken conversation you had moments before he arrived. Any tension melts away the moment the food graces your tastebuds, all three of you releasing a moan of satisfaction. 

“Well, wasn’t that just the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard,” Kuroo teases. 

“I can show you more,” Oikawa tantalizes back with a wink before diving back into his meal. Kuroo chuckles, shaking his head as he lets the sudden urge to clarify he was talking about you die off his tongue. As much as he wanted to, he knew it was be inappropriate. He couldn’t bring himself to tease you anymore, knowing how much it would hurt his girlfriend if she ever found out he was flirting with his best friend. He could always play it off as innocently tormenting his very easily flustered friend, but he doubted even that would pass with ease. Besides, he’s was happily taken, then was not point in ruining that when you were perfectly content living a single life. 

**~*~*~*~**

_When marimba rhythms start to play_

_Dance with me_

_Make me sway_

_Like the lazy ocean ocean hugs the shore_

_Hold me close_

_Sway me more_

You twist and curve around the pole as you slowly drop down it, losing yourself in the music and carefully planned choreography you devised. One of the other girls watches you with a smirk, having opted to stay after class to practice her own piece, but finding herself wrapped up in watching you instead. You drop down to floor work, your body twisting and contouring with the practiced ease of a season dancer. 

_The feeling, feeling so supersonic_

_I try to stop but I just can’t stop it_

_Dancing in flames, dancing in flames_

_Sway with me, sway, sway, sway_

You’re hypnotic to watch, your movements just as captivating as the beat to the song. As the chorus circles around, your back on the pole, doing new flips and tricks from the first time. 

_Tell your people to call me_

_If it’s ‘bout that chicken_

_The most wanted in Gotham_

Once more, you’re dancing on the floor, merely using the pole as a prop you barely touch as you work through the verse and third reiteration of the chorus. This time, as the chorus comes to an end, your launch yourself back onto the pole. She watches you with a baffled smile and circling eyes of enamored trance. You’re still yet to notice her, too wrapped up in your empty thoughts to feel or hear anything outside of the music. If you didn’t know better, you’d question if you were even moving, the notions so fluid and natural you could barely register them. This time as the chorus rolls around, you repeat the moves you displayed at the start. Slowly swinging, the pole trapped between your thighs as your circle gradually to the floor. You gently land at the last beat, “sway me more” the last words sung as your back arches off with a catlike grace, hands above your head. As much as she tries not to, her focus travels across your form before settling on your perfectly expose collarbones, the way your chest silently heaves with exertion, and how your neck is on full display with the tantalizing way your head is tilted back to expose the weak point. “Huh, I guess I can see why guys find this so arousing,” she giggles, crossing an arm across her torso. The voice makes your head snap to the side as you barely suppress a started jump. “Sorry,” she apologizes with a nervous smile, hand coming up in a calming gesture. “I couldn’t help but to watch. You’re really good!” 

“Thanks,” you laugh lightly, unwrapping your legs and collecting yourself. “I kinda lost myself in it that time.” 

“It was beautiful. I hope you plan to compete in the upcoming event!” 

“It’s an international one this time, right?” 

“Yeah! Brazil!” 

You click your tongue before a frown takes over, “I don’t see myself going. I’ll be getting ready for another year of studies.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You’re the medical student, right?” You nod, confirming her deduction. The group in the class was relatively close, most also part of the dance troupe you had joined. They overlapped a lot in terms of competition and choreography, and members. You had mentioned being in medical school during the last outing you agreed to join, the girls hounding you about why you didn’t come out more. Even though you wouldn’t drink as much as them, they loved having you around, finding you able to have just as much fun and easily concede to their shenanigans while sober. It was then you revealed your lack of time to devote to much more than you already did. You may have exaggerated a bit, not wanting to hurt their feelings by saying you preferred to go out with your guy friends. It wasn’t that you disliked the girls, you were just more familiar and comfortable with the guys. That was how you had always been. She shrugs with a hopeful smile, “well, maybe you’ll be able to! Don’t dismiss the idea just yet! There’s still quite a few months to decide.” 

You couldn’t deny that you wanted to go, and it fell during the time you had a break in between finishing your academic classes before moving on to clinical experience. Maybe you’d consider it, if things were calm during the break. Your previous breaks had been full of studying, being sure to practice and understand the material you had already learned and preparing for the upcoming semester. Just as she was moving to say something else, your phone went off, ringtone blaring through the speaker. You give an apologetic grimace before hustling over to the device, checking to see who was calling you before answering. Accepting the video call, you give an exhausted smile to the redhead on the other end. “Satori! Good to see you!”

“You too! You look hot and sweaty,” his brows wiggle suggestively, “what are _you_ up to? ~”

Rolling your eyes despite the smile his teasing words cause, “I’m dancing, ‘Tori. Or, I just finished, rather.” 

“Tell her she should compete,” the girl yells in the background with a soft laugh before exiting the studio. Tendo laughs as your face drops, embarrassment tinting your cheeks. Much to your luck, you had never had anyone stick around to watch your routine before. While it was a confidence boost to know someone enjoyed it immensely, it was just as unsettling. 

“Admirer?”

“Another girl in the class. She watched me practice after class.” Carrying the phone with you, you move about to clean off the pole and gather your belongings. You set the phone down, propping it up for Tendo to watch as you tug on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. “How have you been?” Your voice echoes slightly in the empty room, bouncing off the mirrors lining the walls. 

Tendo meticulously scans over the room, scarlet irises narrowing as he spots the reflection of a pole against one of the mirrors. There are multiple through the room, but you thought you managed to corner yourself in one of the blind spots. He gives a salacious grin, and you don’t bother to ask what it’s for, already knowing he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. Releasing a sigh, your head drops some before you sit down in front of the phone, hunching over to be face first in the camera. “Please, don’t say anything.” 

“You always did know how to surprise me,” he snickers, quick to move past the discovery. “I’ve been great! Kei and I finally got everything unpacked yesterday.” 

“Sorry I couldn’t help! Classes are back to back.” 

“No big deal! Yamaguchi-kun and his girlfriend came over to help.

“Yama has a girlfriend now!?” 

Tendo smiles and nods, “the blonde manager Karasuno had.” 

A line of incoherent shrieks flies out your mouth, making Tendo snicker while summoning the salt king. He looms over the couch, an arm wrapped around Tendo as they watch you excitedly flounder. “Still a banshee, I see,” Tsukishima states with a barely noticeable grin. The sound of his voice immediately grounds you, causing an equally teasing smirk to pull across your lips, “Kei, still insufferable, I see.” 

“Hm,” he shrugs, dropping his chin to rest against Tendo’s shoulder, “he likes me, at least.” Tendo coos, half lidded expression scrunching in satisfaction as his mouth curls into a cat grin, pink dusting his cheeks. 

“I hate you both,” your chin falls against your palm, pouting at the two men, “you’re so cute and happy together.” 

The blonde’s mouth forms a straight line, brows furrowing while Tendo looks at the image of you with utter disbelief, “you and Kuroo aren’t -“

“Nope, he’s been dating some girl for a little over a year now.” 

“Name?” 

“No clue,” you grab the phone before standing, bending back down to grab your bag. “We don’t talk about her much, actually.” Tendo and Tsukishima share a pointed stare and quiet, drawn out hum. Grunting, you opt to ignore their reaction. He is taken and there’s nothing changing that, and you had no intentions of getting in the middle of a dramatic situation by voicing your feelings. “Aside from the chaos of moving, how have you two been?” 

“Good!” Tendo sings, while Tsukishima nods in agreement. Tendo was pursuing his career as a chocolatier while his boyfriend was in his second year of college. Tendo and Tsukishima were the only couple you spoke with and saw weekly. Yuki and Akaashi were swarmed with work, Akaashi working as an editor while Yuki was working as a sports editor and journalist. You would video chat with Daichi and Suga once a week, getting updates on their adventures as a police officer and a teacher. At first, Daichi had no idea what he wanted to following graduation, but at the trip to the beach, he announced he would become a cop. They were the only couples you kept up with, gathering information on others from them. Expectedly, they all asked what you were up to, and if there was any update on the dating front for yourself. You weren’t oblivious to the disappointed gleam they all shared upon learning nothing had changed between you and Kuroo.

The entire trip back to your dorm is spent chatting with the blonde and redhead, discussing how the semester was progressing, how Tsukishima was enjoying playing for his school, and everything in between. As expected, Tendo asked if you had seen Ushijima lately. Begrudgingly, you admitted that you had not, explaining that your schedules just never lined up to allow a reunion. He understood, but you were more than aware of the way he was hoping the two of you would reconnect and revive your abandoned romance. 

Apparently, love just wasn’t meant to be a part of your story. Or so, that’s how it felt. It was fine, you wouldn’t complain. It gave you more time to devote to your studies. 

**~*~*~*~**

Entering your dorm, you almost back pedal to make sure you entered the correct room. The scent of a fresh, home cooked meal wafted through the air. You half debated if Tendo had snuck over, but having just ending your call with him, you knew better. “Right on time!” Oikawa saunters out of the kitchen with two plates of yakitori chicken, sautéed peppers, and some rice. Too tired to question why he was in your dorm, cooking, you follow him over to the couch and take a seat in front of one of the plates. 

“Didn’t you have practice?” 

“I did! We finished early.” He gives a slight shrug, knowing that didn’t answer the real questions you wanted to ask. “I saw how gloomy you got before Kuroo came over. Figured you could use some comfort food.” The fact he remembered this was a meal you typically made yourself when feeling down made a shock of warmth thrum through you. You bump your shoulder against his, shooting a genuine smile, “thanks, Tōru.” Since moving out from the apartment you and Yuki shared, Oikawa had taken over the role of your best friend. You were nearly inseparable, practically attached at the hip. While the number of classes you had with Kuroo diminished over the semesters, you and Oikawa continued to share a similar schedule. Outside of class, it was guaranteed to find Oikawa in your dorm or you in his. Aside from when you parted for sports, or sleeping, the two of you were together. On occasion, you would crash at the others dorm, comfortable enough to do so. Over the years you had grown to appreciate Oikawa’s charm and even fall for him, but not in the sense other females did. You didn’t swoon over him, or want to date him, but if he ever made a move, you wouldn’t push him away. The two of you were close enough to let things get physical without it making any impact on your relationship, either. Getting this close to the playboy wasn’t something you ever predicted happening, but you were more than grateful for it. Since high school, he had matured from his bitter rivalries and petty behavior. He was more comfortable with himself and rarely put up a mask for others anymore, having grown into himself. It was a beautiful process to be part of, watching him grow. Of course, he was still an over dramatic, flirty little shit. He could also exude that saccharine drip of poison on the court, his underhanded compliments and praise rolling off with a sharp bitterness that cut straight through his opponents. Still, you loved him with everything in you, and you knew he felt the same. 

“Question,” his fist blocks his mouth as he finished chewing, swallowing before continuing, “since you’re not going on that date tomorrow, want to go out with me instead?” 

“Sure, where to?” 

He shrugs, chopsticks shifting through the rice as if searching for something he dropped in it, “haven’t gotten that far, but I’ll let you know.” You still agree. After all, you’ve never had a bad time with the setter. 

Following dinner, you clean up the plates and whatever else is left in the kitchen while Oikawa searches for a movie to put on. It was still early evening, giving you some time to unwind and enjoy the ability to simply do nothing. It wasn’t a completely rare instance, but you would still cherish the time to sit back and do nothing whenever you had the chance. Laying on the couch, you rest your head against Oikawa’s leg, the action normal as you usually used him as a personal pillow while watching shows or movies together. Unsurprisingly, he put on some sci-fi horror about aliens. His obsession with them ran so deep you had joked he was one, and truthfully, it wouldn’t surprise you in the least if he was.

Halfway through the movie, with Oikawa’s hand tangled through your silky tresses, blunt nails massaging your scalp, you thought of Kuroo. The way Oikawa and you would cuddle reminded you of a time when this behavior was something you and the cat bastard would share. Now, it feels like a distant memory, like something that took place in another lifetime. “Toru,” he hums softly, milky orbs glued to the screen, but still listening to you. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

“You’re more enough to deal with.” 

“We’re not even dating.” 

“Which says a lot, doesn’t it?” 

You reach up, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, “I’m being serious!” 

He doesn’t bother to pause the movie, but his full focus has shifted down to you. He mulls over the question, tongue peeking out from behind his lips as his brain reels to settle on an answer. “I just haven’t found anyone worth my time, honestly.”

“Holding out for Iwa-chan?” 

“Shut up! No!” But the blush dotting his cheeks and ears is enough to keep your teasing going. 

“Aw, come on, Toru! You know you love him!” 

“As a friend!” He bristles, turning his head from you while muttering, “Daichi was cute, though.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Catapulting forward, you jump to your knees, leaning further into Oikawa’s space now that you’re eye level with him, “you had a thing for Daichi!?” 

“Who didn’t!?” One of your brows raise, the other furrowing as your lips pucker, head bobbing in agreement. Daichi was a perfect package, Suga was a lucky bitch. “What about you, Miss Forever Alone? Why don’t _you_ have a boyfriend?” 

“Because I chased the one away and was too chicken shit to tell the other how I felt.” 

Oikawa mimics your previous expression, “that is a valid point.” 

“There really isn’t anyone else you’re interested in? Even sexually?” 

“Not really,” the answer rolls off smooth and immediate, not even needing to think about it. “I mean, I love dragging guys in and breaking their hearts -“

“Man eater.”

“But that’s just because I don’t have any real interest in them. I lost the two I wanted, that’s just something I have to live with.” 

“Just be a slut, it’s more fun.” 

“I’m changing your name to whorekawa.” 

He shrugs, and in the silence a slew of racy questions for the male runs through your mind, but before you can even get a syllable out, Oikawa’s phone goes off. The second her answers it, Kuroo’s voice comes through the line.

“Get the fuck to your dorm, it’s 10pm and we have morning practice before class! (Name), get your ass in bed, you have an 8am!” 

“You’re not my dad,” you scoff while Oikawa whines the same sentiment. 

“(Name), do not make me come over there.”

“Do it, pussyboy. You won’t.” 

“I swear, I will.” 

“Bring it, tough guy. I want to see you try.” 

“Ten minutes. You have ten minutes before I’m over there and drag your ass to beg.” 

“Drag me by the hair?” You tease with a wink he can’t see, but you can imagine the feral scowl forming on him. He hangs up with a low growl and you just know you’ve pissed him off enough to make him follow through on the threat. 

**~*~*~*~**

Kuroo hates how much of a brat you are, only because it does everything to rile him up. He’d love nothing more than to put you in your place, but it wasn’t something he had the luxury of doing. Not in the way he wanted to, at least. Kuroo was a switch, but his dominant side ran strong. Unfortunately, his girlfriend wasn’t into most of his kinks, leaving him extra sensitive to moments like this. In truth, he’d only order you and Oikawa around to bring out your rebellious attitude, the behavior alone enough to give him some material to fantasize about when he was in his own dorm. He loves his girlfriend, truly, but there’s something about the relationship that leaves him feeling a tad empty. It’s not just the rather vanilla sex, either. She’s sweet, but there’s no bite to her. No edge that will take his teasing before throwing her own right back. She’s a lot of things, but the main factor is, she just isn’t you. Kuroo thought finding another, someone he loved and could maybe picture a future with, would be enough to remove you from his heart. But even after over a year with her, you still held majority of his love. It was why he had stopped his teasing, wouldn’t sit on the couch with you during movie nights, and stopped spending so much alone time with you. It was a tease, tormenting him, tempting him to say ‘fuck it’ before throwing his long-term relationship aside to chase after a girl he’d never managed to catch before. 

Normally, he’d ignore your bratty demeanor and simply use it as a basis for what he wanted to do to you, everything he pictured in his mind while in bed with a hand wrapped around his aching cock. But tonight, was different. For the first time, he found himself side tracking from the walkway to his girlfriend’s dorm, marching across to your own building. This time, you’d listen to him, even if he had to make you. 

Kuroo stormed in like a man on a hunt, your dorm always kept unlocked if you were inside. He watched as you and Oikawa leapt from the couch, a concoction of shock and fear pulsing through the two of you. Not willing to risk punishment from the inky haired male, having suffered enough at the hands of Iwaizumi, Oikawa bolted. He skipped sideways past Kuroo, his back against the wall, before he quickly bent down to grab his shoes and take off down the hall, shoes in hand.

The sight was enough to ground you in place, but you didn’t resist the satisfied smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Oh? Think just showing up makes you look big and bad?”

“(Name), you’re going to listen to me -“

“Am I?” Your arms cross over your chest, “make me.” Expecting him to curse and storm out, you don’t have time to react as he lunges forward. His hand twists in your hair, pulling your head back to force you to stare up into his burning globes of sunlight. “Bedroom, now.” With a small whimper, you comply. Kuroo keeps a tight grip on you, following you to your room. Once inside, he jerks your head to the side, careful not to hurt you despite the rough handling. His mouth ghosts against your ear, his voice a husky, whispered command, “get ready for bed.” There’s a throb in your core that feels impossible to ignore, his shameless display of his dominance building a fire in your lower stomach. Any rational side of your mind had shut off, turning over completely for his commands and eagerness to please. 

He knows how you sleep, he should have left, but he can’t help to stare as he releases you. You move a few feet away from him, stopping at the edge of your bed before peeling off your sweatpants. He glances down to inspect your panties, nearly groaning at the way the cheeky pair stretch and hug against your perfect ass. You slip into bed, letting the covers pool over your legs as you discard your shirt. The sports bra you wear sits awkwardly against your full chest, some of your breasts creeping out the sides of the spandex while an ungodly amount of cleavage spills from the top. He swallows thickly as you pull the blankets up, covering yourself as you remove the restricting article. Unable to help himself, he burns the imagery in front of him into his mind. Your blankets wrapped around your chest, the tension pushing your mounds together to give a beautiful view. How your face is contoured in submission, doe eyes wide as you wait patiently for his next command. The way your collarbones are pronounced and your chest heaves slightly, breathing pitched from the arousal swirling in your gut. “Good girl,” he doesn’t miss the way you shudder at the name, “now go to sleep.” 

Without missing a beat, you lay down and get comfortable, just knowing your dream is going to be filled with this sinful man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still at it with the angst ... but, make it a bit spicy


	15. Ushibaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titled after the foolishness the stoic man causes this chapter.   
> C'mon, you didn't really think I was finished with him, did you?

“Hey, hey, hey!” 

Bokuto gasps, leaping off the ground as he twisted around to watch you stroll through the gym. “Hey, hey, hey!!” He yells, bright orbs rounded with boundless excitement as he bolts to engulf you in a hug. Had his arms not already been looped around you, the force of his body colliding with yours would have sent you tumbling backwards. The both of you always seemed to forget just how much larger Bokuto was in comparison, likely due to how large and commanding your presence was. 

“Ah, the demon manager returns,” Miya teases as you and Bokuto pull apart from the hug, swaying a few steps closer to the two of you. 

“Please, I haven’t been a manager in _years_.” 

“But you could! Kuroo mentioned their team is still looking for one.” 

You roll your eyes at Bokuto, opting to ignore his comment. Both Oikawa and Kuroo had begged and pleaded for you to manage their team the second they joined back in your first year of university. Since finding your rhythm and mastering your time management, they had become more insistent, but you rejected their pleas every time. While you had time to squeeze such an activity in, you had long resigned from the world of volleyball, the distance from the sport that consumed your childhood oddly refreshing. Even if you still found yourself wrapped up in the sport, constantly visiting the teams, watching practices, and cheering them on during games. “Shame, we just finished practice.” 

You smile, waving your hand to dismiss Meian’s apparent concern of you missing them in action, “not a big deal! I was just dropping by to meet with Bokuto before we grab lunch.”

“Oh yeah!” Bokuto lights up, reinvigorated at the mention of getting something to eat. “Let me go shower and change and we can go!” He sprints off before anyone can utter a syllable in his direction, leaving you snickering in his wake. 

“Stupid owl,” Miya mutters with a shake of his head. 

“Well, how have the rest of you been?” You make easy conversation with the rest of the team, Miya and Inunaki dominating over the rest as they catch up with you. It had been a few months since the last time you paid a visit to the Black Jackals, caught up with your own busy schedule. Naturally, they asked if you had time to catch up with the Adlers lately, knowing you were friends with a few of their players as well. You had tried, often texting Ushijima and even Kageyama about potential dates to meet, but nothing ever seemed to line up. Not for the entire team, at least. “I did see Kageyama! Maybe three weeks ago? I haven’t been able to see anyone else.” 

“Trying to avoid their cannon?” Miya snickered, entirely unaware of your history with Ushijima. “He can be intimidating, but -“

“Are you talking about ‘Toshi?” Your head cants to the side, brows knit together with curiosity. Sakusa’s face shrivels at your familiarity with his rival, Inunaki snickering to himself over the dark-haired spiker’s displeasure while Miya gawks in disbelief. 

“‘T-Toshi? So, you’re familiar with Ushijima-san?” 

“(Name)-chan dated him back in senior high!” Bokuto announces with far too much volume and enthusiasm, making you wince under the power in which he exposes your previous affairs. You were not ashamed of it by any means, you just never saw the point in bringing it up. 

“Hold up!” The libero bounces in place, a near feral grin spreading across his face, “you really dated Ushijima!?” 

“Yes,” you pass a quick, stabbing glare to Bokuto before looking back at the white-haired male, “but it was years ago. Nothing worth getting excited about.” 

“I’m sure that’s not how Oikawa-san feels,” Miya quips with a shit-eating smirk. 

“Why would Toru care?” 

Miya’s dark brows shift, one raising in quizzical confusion, “that his girlfriend dated his sworn enemy?” Bokuto erupts in a howling laugh as your cheeks burn with embarrassment, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to shield yourself from the multiple eyes on you. 

“I-I’m not dating Toru! I’m not even in a relationship!” Sakusa’s own brows raise at the revelation, his internal thoughts dropping the second Bokuto straights himself, laughter dying at the drop of a pin as he shoots him a look that screams, ‘don’t even think about it.’ He gives a halfhearted grunt before making his way off towards the locker room. Before the thought of coming on to you can cross anyone else’s mind, namely Miya, Bokuto slings an arm around your neck, flashing his teammates a smile, “we can harass her another day! Right now, we have food to eat!” 

“Thanks for the save,” you laugh as you and Bokuto exit the gymnasium, walking down the street towards the restaurant Bokuto had insisted on taking you to. 

“Can’t have them stealing you from Kuroo,” he teases with a wink. 

“Bokuto,” you shake your head at him, “you know Kuroo has a girlfriend.” 

“I do, but I also know he’s hopelessly in love with you.” 

“Oh my- Bokuto, he is not! He’s in love with his girlfriend.” You shrug, voice softer and more mournful than you anticipated, “he hardly ever jokes around with me anymore. I barely see him.” 

“Have you told him?” 

“Of course, not! He has a girlfriend!” 

“He’s also been one of your best friends since your first year of high school. Talk to him, tell him you miss him.” 

You shake your head, refusing to look over at Bokuto, “absolutely not. I don’t want to get in the way or his relationship or make things awkward for him and his girlfriend. Besides, it makes it easier to keep my feelings to myself.” 

“You should just tell him,” Bokuto practically sings. 

Your head snaps in his direction, mortification written across your face. “Bokuto, no! What the hell?!” 

He just laughs, trapping your head between his chest and bicep once more, “then you’re going to be stuck with everyone thinking your dating Oikawa for the rest of your life.” 

“Or I just find a man who isn’t taken!” 

“But you and Kuroo would be perfect together!” 

“That’s exactly what I said about you and Iwaizumi and you still pussied out!” 

Bokuto snorts, pink trickling across his cheeks, “he was leaving to go to America for four years!”

“And he’ll be back in just a few months.” Bokuto whines from above you, knowing full well you’ll push him to finally confess to the beautiful male. He had a crush on Akaashi for a time but knew the younger had a secret crush on your friend, Yuki. He convinced Akaashi to confess one day when catching up with him, and they had been together ever since. Much like you, upon losing his chance with the two men he spent years pining over, he opted to stay single and let whatever was meant to happen fall into place. You continue to tease him over his crush, playfully encouraging him to finally get over his nerves and tell Iwaizumi how he felt. 

**~*~*~*~**

Kageyama stops in the middle of the walkway, attention locked across the street. “What is it?” Ushijima asks, looking at the younger player before attempting to pinpoint what had captured his attention so abruptly. 

“Isn’t that (Name)?” Kageyama nods to the figure poking and prodding Bokuto, his features noticeable from a mile away.

Ushijima’s nose crinkles as he stares, taking in the details of the female accompanying the wing spiker, “no.”

Kageyama huffs, not believing Ushijima’s deduction and deciding to do his own investigation. He pulls out his phone, clicking on your contact to call you. Bokuto and his companion stop outside of a ramen bar, the female pulling out her phone to answer it. Kageyama doesn’t bother with a greeting as you pick up, instead asking right away, “are you with Bokuto? Outside of Akira Ramen?” Ushijima cannot hear your voice from the other end, but he watches as Bokuto and the female with him begin looking around. Kageyama smirks, proud of himself for being correct in his deduction, “we’ll be right over.” 

Ushijima can feel his chest tightening as their trio crosses the street and pads down the sidewalk, approaching you and Bokuto. It’s been years since he’s seen you, and the amount of beauty you’ve gained in that time is purely meant to torment him. You had a wonderful figure in high school, but he can see where you’ve toned up since then. Your slim waist only accentuating your sinfully pleasing hourglass figure. Fitted in a shirt that showed off the half sleeve tattoo on your left arm, characters from an anime you and Tendō enjoyed covering your lower arm up to just below the elbow. Your right arm was completely covered in black, white, and gray ink, a full sleeve adorning that limb. A small version of two of your favorite animals above your right collar bone, as well as a tiny tattoo on your left wrist, two on your right, stacked on top of each other, your zodiac sign and corresponding element type. There were three on your fingers, but he couldn’t quite make them out due to the distance. He quickly noticed you had more piercings than the last time he saw you, at least eleven in your right ear with only five in the left. He had a gut feeling there were plenty more modifications hidden by your clothes, but he would refrain from asking. Even if he was more than tempted, his voice evaded him, trapped in his throat the moment he set his sights on you. “Kageyama, ‘Toshi!” You greet with a smile once they settle in front of you. “I thought you guys had practice until later this afternoon?” 

“We did, it was canceled,” Ushijima answers before Kageyama had the chance to speak. Steely blue eyes pass the larger male a side glance, but says nothing to refute the lie. You had contacted Ushijima first, seeing if he was available to meet you for lunch, but he rejected the offer, claiming he had practice. He used the excuse countless times, a futile effort to keep from running into you. Ushijima had done a lot to squash his abundant feelings for you, but nothing seemed to work. Not even- 

“Oh!” You and Bokuto squeak, watching a female step out from behind the two males. She wasn’t much shorter than either of them, easily every bit of 180cm. “Who’s this?” 

“Bokuto-san, (Name)-chan, this is Tsukinami Akane. She is my girlfriend.” Bokuto balks at the information, but you keep a friendly smile, extending a hand to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” 

“Likewise!” She smiles down at you, exhuming a friendliness that feels almost forced. Her red-brown eyes lack a genuine shine, but you can see the buzzing curiosity in them. When her hand retracts, she tucks a strand of her short, auburn hair behind her ear. Undoubtedly, the barely shoulder length cut was due to being in a sport. Perhaps part of the women’s pro volleyball league? She quickly confirms your suspicion before adding, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your mouth forms a silent ‘oh,’ in response, unsure how to react. “These two hardly ever shut up about you,” there’s a laugh that follows her comment, but it’s clipped, almost resentful. 

“Ah. Yes, Wakatoshi is a childhood friend! And I’ve known Kageyama for quite a few years.” 

Tsukinami hums with a nod, her careful inspection never dropping from you, “I’ve heard.” 

You smile, withholding a laugh of discomfort. Turning your attention to Ushijima, you tell him with all sincerity, “I’m happy you found someone! You deserve to be happy.” 

He nods, agreeing to your assessment even if the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. “How are you and Oikawa?” Kageyama scowls and Bokuto breaks out into another uncontrolled fit of cackles. It takes every ounce of will power not to slam your palm against your forehead. 

“She’s not dating Stupidkawa,” Kageyama snorts, as if the notion offended him. 

“Oh,” Ushijima blinks, looking from his teammate to you, “I apologize. I thought-“

“It’s fine, a lot of people do.” 

“Hey!” Bokuto perks back to life, recovering from his side-splitting amusement, “why don’t you guys join us for lunch!?” 

Ushijima and Kageyama share a glance, contemplating the offer. You shift to look at Tsukinami, watching as she stares expectantly to Ushijima, waiting for him to look at her and read to flashing, red, warning signs in her own gaze. Their shared look never comes, Ushijima instead nodding to Bokuto, “sure.” 

“It’ll be nice to catch up,” the noirette adds with a soft shrug, also completely ignoring the female of their own group. 

There’s a burning sense of tense dread taking root in your stomach, knowing this is bound to be the most awkward lunch you’ve ever been part of. As you follow Bokuto into the restaurant, Kageyama follows directly behind, practically having to shoulder check Ushijima to keep him from hovering behind you. You slip your phone out of your pocket, sending an S-O-S text to Oikawa. 

**_Big booty_**

_I need you to call me in about 10 to remind me about our dinner plans._

_Kageyama and Ushijima ran into us. Ushi’s girlfriend fucking HATES me._

_It’s so awkward._

Oikawa doesn’t text back, but the read receipt is enough reassurance that he’ll pull through on your request. The hostess leads the five of you to a booth, Bokuto motioning for you to slide in first. Much to your horror, Tsukinami slips in beside you, forcing Bokuto to sit on the other side of her. She gives a saccharine smile, “I hope you don’t mind. I like sitting across from Wakkun, it makes it easier to see his pretty face.” 

“R-right, no problem.” You croak, but not because she’s managed to intimidate you. Everything just screams for you to retreat, having been so determined not to get in the middle of Kuroo’s relationship, you never considered the possibility of being a wedge in someone else’s, especially Ushijima’s. Ushijima and Kageyama sink into the booth at the opposite side of the table, but even as Ushijima settled across from his girlfriend, his attentions flickers over to you. You ignore his gaze, opting to pick up the menu and occupy yourself with scanning over it. Bokuto, in effort to save the lunch from succumbing to the tension, asks Ushijima and Kageyama how training and their games have been progressing. Fortunately, the conversation is enough to cut the blanket of weight that had been thrown over your group, making your incoming call less suspicious. You let it ring a few times in attempt to seem less eager. “Toru! What’s up?” With your volume set on high, it takes little concentration for the others to hear him. 

_“(Name)! How late are you going to be with Bokuto-chan?”_

“Um- I’m not sure, why?” 

_“We have plans at seven, remember? Don’t tell me you forgot about me,”_ he pouts, selling the conversation as something that would normally flow between the two of you. He flawless makes you forget the call is a rouse to get you out of a lunch featuring Ushijima’s girlfriend. 

“I’d never forget about you, Toru. You wouldn’t let me even if I tried.” 

_“You’re right!~”_ he sings before adding, _“make sure you’re home by five! That way you have enough time to shower and make yourself pretty. Make sure to dress nice, we’re finding you some good dick tonight.”_

You blush as the guys at the table gape at you, “shut up, sluttykawa. If you want to see my ass, all you have to do is ask.” 

_“Oh? Well, if I had known it was that easy.”_

Your laugh rings out like a bell, smooth and clear, piercing in the most satisfying way. Bokuto nearly keels over at the exchange while Kageyama bites back the slew of curses sitting on the top of his tongue. Ushijima can’t help the nagging heat in his chest, the acidic bite of jealousy an uncommon sensation to him. He can’t take his eyes off you, watching how easily you relax on the phone with Oikawa, giggling and flirting with the brunette. You said you weren’t dating him, but was there a chance you had feelings for him? Possibly, but unlikely. You had been known for flirting, especially with friends. Perhaps it was mindless, but the ticking nerve in his mind couldn’t drop the topic without a solid answer. The second you end the call, he asks, “are you and Oikawa sleeping together?” Without thought, going off pure instinct, Kageyama drops his forehead against the table with a resounding thud. Bokuto looks at Ushijima with a bewildered smile, even as his jaw unhinges and nearly drops to the floor. 

“W-Wakatoshi! That’s not your business!” Tsukinami shrieks, face flushed with a mix of secondhand embarrassment and wrath. 

You can only laugh, waving a hand in front of your face to cool your blistering cheeks. In the heat of the moment, you forget to maintain any sense of formality with the man, “no, ‘Toshi. We’re not sleeping together.” Your head checks to the side quickly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, though.” 

Tsukinami deadpans at you, a judgmental disgust lingering behind her narrowed orbs and rumpled nose, “don’t you think that would ruin your friendship?” 

“Not at all. Sex won’t kill a relationship if you don’t let it.” 

“And what makes you so sure about that?” 

“(Name) and I are still friends, and we used to have sex quite often.” At this point, Kageyama is halfway under the table, face cherry red with shame. Bokuto is hanging onto the edge of the table, trying to keep himself upright as he gasps for breath in the crook of his arm, doing his best to keep from erupting in obnoxious laughter. You’re at a loss for words, lips pulled into a half smirk at the shameless reminder of how blunt Ushijima can be. 

“I’m sorry,” Tsukinami turns her focus to her boyfriend, teeth grit together, “you _what_?” 

You keep to yourself, refusing to offer any words to aid in the situation. Ushijima meets her heated stare head on, unblinking, unbothered by her obvious fury. He’s confused by it, if anything. “We used to have sex a lot when we dated. That’s normal, is it not?” 

“You two actually dated!?” 

“I can’t breathe,” Bokuto gasps, doubling over in the booth and nearly crumbling to the floor. By now only to top of Kageyama’s head is visible behind the table, and you contemplate following his lead. 

“Yes,” Ushijima states as matter-of-factly as ever. 

“ _Oh my god!”_ She stands up, fingers digging into the table, “don’t you think you could have mentioned that _before_ we had lunch with her!?” 

“I apologize, I didn’t realize it was important.” Normally, it wouldn’t be, not to her. She was a pro athlete, her face and body graced the cover of multiple magazines, she had endless men and women begging to be with her. Tsukinami had no questions is regard to her worth, her attractiveness, or her promise as a partner. But all her confidence crumbled the moment your name was ever brought up in conversation. More often than not, it was due to others asking Ushijima if he had contact with you, but she never missed the way his indifference cracked the moment he spoke a word towards you. She wasn’t blind to the way his otherworldly eyes would sparkle and shine whenever engaged in a conversation about you. It was obvious he harbored deep feelings for you, she’d even go as far as to say he was in love with you, but until now she was able to brush it off as admiration. You were someone special to him, a best friend, a sister, someone irreplaceable in a platonic sense. That notion was the only thing keeping her grounded in her idea that he loved her, but now, discovering there was a romantic history between the two of you. Oh, she knew. She knew there was no way his feelings were innocent, he was in love with you, fully, hopelessly. As much as she hated to admit, when it came to Ushijima, she would never out rank you. Tsukinami knew Ushijima had a trail of broken hearts behind him, multiple women managing to hold his heart for a few months before the tabloids were digging for reasons behind the seemingly abrupt end. She assumed it was because of his almost cold, aloof nature. But now, she knew the truth. They all conceded to the power you have over him, knowing they would never manage to enrapture him in the same sense. You may be single, but Ushijima was yours. Even when he wasn’t. 

Feeling all eyes on her, Tsukinami releases a long sigh she had been holding in before sitting back down. Calmly, quietly, she tells him, “it’s not. It just caught me off guard. I’m sorry for overreacting.” Despite no longer laughing, Bokuto remains sideways in his seat, staring at the ground with a grimace. He doesn’t need to look at her to picture the defeat she tries to wipe from her face, but it drips in her tone. Kageyama stays sloughed in his seat beside Ushijima, blinking owlishly at the drink in front of him. You stare at the condensation slipping down the side of your glass of water, suddenly wishing you had opted to order something with liquor in it. 

**~*~*~*~**

Oikawa whistles as you open the door, romantic brown orbs drinking in the sight of you. You had put on a simple black slip dress, the material hugging your curves exactly right. The hem had a small slit, just enough to add some extra oomph to the spaghetti strap piece. You grabbed an olive, cropped jacket from the hook beside the door as you slipped on a pair of black combat boots, using the shoes and jacket to make the outfit more fitting of the fall weather. You had done your makeup and pulled your hair into a casually curled ponytail that draped over your shoulder, two lose pieces of hair hanging in front of your face. After the misery you suffered at lunch, going out with Oikawa was a necessity. He can see the utter exhaustion dancing behind listless pools of stilled water. He whistled again, this one low with a hint of anguish, “lunch that rough?” 

“I’m going to need two drinks before I even consider talking about it.” 

“Oh, so it was _that_ bad.” 

“Worse,” you groan, head dropping forward to hang in misery. He chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the hall. His free hand snakes your keys from your fingers, quickly locking your door before disposing of them in his pocket and guiding you out. Oikawa doesn’t push or probe for information, he’ll wait until you’re ready to talk about it. He had no information beyond the desperate text you had sent him before the luncheon had even started, leaving him oblivious to the two hours of treachery you endured in effort not to make the situation worse. 

“And then he told her, ‘we used to have sex a lot.’” Oikawa bites back the snicker bubbling in his throat, more amused by Ushijima’s unchanged tendencies towards brutal honesty than anything. “Oh, my fuck, Toru, I ruined a relationship today. I’m a horrible person.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he chuckles out, unable to keep his cool composure so soon after learning the events of the disaster affair. “Ushiwaka is just, well, he’s just himself. And she was jealous of you from the start.” 

You snort, sipping at your drink. You swore it would take two to get you to spill, but the words started flowing the moment you sat at the bar. “Why would she be jealous of me?” 

Oikawa isn’t going to lie to you, he won’t leave you to solve the obvious on your own. He won’t repeat the behavior everyone exuded in high school, trying to keep obvious feelings hidden for the other person to discover on their own. He turns in his seat, facing you directly, “Ushiwaka is still in love with you and she knows it. That’s why she was jealous.” 

The cocktail nearly spurts from your nose, your head snapping to meet Oikawa’s deathly serious expression. “W-what? How can you-“

“That’s the only reason she’d react like that. She knew you were special to him, downplayed it, and when she learned the truth of your relationship, realized he still loves you. Romantically.” 

“Toru, no,” you pinch at the bridge of your nose, eyes closing in emotional exhaustion, “please, don’t say that. I can’t handle that right now.” 

“Why not? You have time for a relationship now. Why not make it happen? You two have a history, I know you miss him, as more than a friend.” 

“I just- I can’t. There’s already so much on my mind with Kuroo. Especially after last ni-“ you cut yourself off with a startled yelp, nearly slamming a hand over your mouth. Oikawa raises a brow, smug grin forming as he leans in closer to you. He cups a hand behind his ear, as if to say he didn’t hear you. You shake your head, returning to sucking down your drink. 

“Oh, no. You don’t get to drop something like that and shut down. Spill it.” 

You nervously, unconsciously, twirl the hair at the end of your ponytail. Letting the strands coil around your finger before slipping off and repeating the process, “he- he actually went through with his threat.” 

“Gonna need more than that.” 

You sigh, exasperate and already feeling heat pool between your thighs at the memory. “He said if I didn’t go to bed he’d come over and make me.”

“Yes, and he did come over.” 

“And he grabbed me by the hair and told me to get ready for bed.” You go into detail about the encounter, Oikawa doing nothing to cover the swell of thrill coursing through him over the development. You groan, rubbing two fingers against your temple, “it was so hot, I almost jumped him. I really need to get laid.” 

Oikawa hums, breaking his attention from you for the first time of the night. Immediately, you recognize the expression he wears. It’s the one he makes whenever he’s figured something out, a solution to a problem that’s been working its way under his skin for a while. Steeling himself, his chocolate stare meets yours, “what if we fucked around?” You nearly choke, not because the idea is repulsive, but because it felt out of left field. “Let’s be real, flings are annoying. It requires getting to know someone, discovering what they like and what makes them tick. We already know everything about each other, we’re best friends. So, what’s so wrong with turning it into friends with benefits?” He shrugs a single shoulder, a display of his nonchalance towards the idea, “we both have needs to satisfy, and I’d be a liar to say I’ve never thought about what being with you would be like.” 

“Strictly professional? Sex relief only, no romance, no feelings beyond our platonic, best friend love?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it would get messy.” 

You stare down at the red colored martini in front of you, the drink near completion and waiting to be finished off. You slide it away from you, suddenly uninterested in it and more intrigued by the offer on the table. Long, matte black nails tap against the counter in thought before halting once all four touch down, “let’s do it.” 

Oikawa smirks, slipping off his chair to stand beside you. His hands slip around your waist, hot breath brushing against your ear, “your place or mine?” 

“Yours,” you answer without missing a beat, a surge of excitement igniting in your veins. Oikawa quickly pays for the single drink the two of you ordered before guiding you out of the bar and back towards campus. 

**~*~*~*~**

Clothes are ripped off the moment you enter his dorm, a trail of them leading to his bedroom. You’re as bare as the day you were born, legs spread wide with Oikawa holding them apart with large hands wrapped under your knees, his face buried in the apex of your thighs. You moan and keen as his tongue laps as your dripping slit, arousal burning strong from going so long without being touched. Fingers carded through strands of mahogany, tugging every time his slick muscle flicks across your aching clit. He groans against you every time you pull at his hair, the vibrations shooting through your core and coaxing you closer to a blissful edge. His lips wrap around the little bundle of nerves, moving his focus there as he sucks harshly, tongue tracing circles against you as he slips a finger into your fluttering walls. With a few strokes and carefully placed curling motions, you unravel, head thrown back against the pillow as you release against him. 

Oikawa moans, quickly lapping up what he can of the juices flowing from you, unable to get enough of your taste. He finally pulls away, reluctant to stop his feast, but eager to move onto the next part. 

“Baby, fuck,” you mewl out as you look down at him, peering up from between your legs, light eyes darkened with pure lust. The most touching he’s had was when he rutted against the mattress while servicing you, but he looks so wrecked you can’t handle it. You cup his cheek, running a thumb across his delicate cheekbones as you coo at him, the pleading desperation like a spotlight in his stare. “You want to cum, baby? Hm?” 

“ _Shit_ , yes. Please, _please_ , I want to cum so bad.” For as much as the man teased you about being a bottom, it was a surprise to find out he was, too. You fully expected Oikawa to be a top, but you had no complaints over the beautiful truth. After all, you rarely let your dominant side out, but he easily encouraged the power out of you. 

“Then fuck me. Fuck me right and I’ll let you cum.” Oikawa whines at your words, quickly climbing up your body until he’s positioned over you, the weeping head of his cock rubbing against your slick folds. He continues to slide against you, the swollen tip brushing against your sensitive clit and making you mewl in response. Finally, he lines up just right and sinks inside. His head drops to your shoulder, shuddering as inch after inch pushes into your velvet walls. Your hand ghosts over his shoulder before creeping up his spine, coffin nails digging into his scalp as you command him, “fuck me, Toru. Like you mean it.” You force his head over, making it easier for you to whisper in his ear, “I want to watch you come undone above me.” Even on the bottom, you maintain all power. Curling your legs around his back, you dig your heels in, encouraging him to thrust deeper and faster. He complies without hesitation, moaning unabashedly at how perfect you feel around him. 

Oikawa has had his fair share of hook ups, but none have ever left him feeling this foggy in his mind. He’s fully submitted to you, eager to please and fulfill your every wish. Pistoning his hips against yours, he can suddenly understand why Terushima was so resentful when you cut him off all those years ago. Oikawa wasn’t religious, the only higher beings he believed in where the tiny, gray men flitting around the galaxy. But if there was one thing, he was certain of, it was that heaven did exist, and it was located between your thighs. He truly pitied any man to be with you who caught feelings, because he just knew after one taste they were hooked for life. And given your reputation, you weren’t a supplier than made any deal twice. 

He knocked on the door three times before giving in and letting himself into the dorm. Kuroo chuckled at the trail of clothes on the floor, shaking his head at the sound of skin slapping against skin. As silent and sly as a cat on the prowl, he moved into the living room, setting the borrowed textbook onto the table. He paused at the sound of a woman moaning, the noise painfully arousing. A quick strike of sudden envy ran through him, knowing whoever Oikawa managed to bring back was breathtakingly beautiful in looks alone. But to sound like that, the cross between all righteousness that ruled the heavens and a certified pornstar, unfairly sinful. It wasn’t until she called out his name that the heat in his groin sent a ripple of ice through his veins, the frozen knives embedding into his heart. That wasn’t any voice. He knew that voice, because it was the one that filled any hot air in his mind. It was the one that whispered salacious filth in the middle of the night when he was alone with an insatiable need. It was your voice. 

Oikawa and you were having sex. And suddenly, every doubt Kuroo had about the two of you flew out the window. Red panic seared through him, his chest tightening at the thought of you and Oikawa becoming an item. Kuroo had imagined you with other people, even seen you a few times with your flings, but he knew they weren’t serious relationships. So, why, when he’s over a year deep in a relationship of his own, is the idea of you committing romantically to your best friend filling him with dread? He knows why, from deep down to the shallow surface, he knows exactly why it’s eating him alive. 

He’s still in love with you, and the idea of forever losing his chance with you, isn’t a thought he can manage. 


	16. Update

Hello, lovely readers!  
I just wanted to take a quick moment to say, 1. thank you so much for reading and checking for any updates. 2. I do have more coming for this series!   
I had to take a small hiatus for mental health reasons in the beginning of the month. I ended an 8 year relationship, he moved out, and I had a major depressive episode. The week following that, I got into a car accident and totaled my car. I was fine, no injuries!   
I've also been working on some BIG projects for a few collabs I am part of (including the Yagami Yato event), so EYA and even Tales of Terror had to get put on the back burner.   
I'll be back soon with some new content for this fic, along with two new (mega) one shots for our wonderful boy, Ushi!


	17. Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey! I'm back from the dead! After a super busy month (October was wild, let me tell you), I have risen from the grave!   
> Thank you all for the patience and understanding!

**“Ushijima and Tsukinami split!”**

**“A past flame that never died out?”**

**“Ushijima caught in public fight with ex!”**

**“Tsukinami speaks on breakup with Ushijima.** ”

You let your head drop to the table with a heavy thump, a death grip still wrapped around your phone. It had been two weeks since that miserable lunch with Ushijima, and the tabloids were quick to catch all the drama and begin spitting out rumors. Only three days following the encounter, the Adlers had a game, where the press was quick to notice Tsukinami was absent from the crowd. When confronted about it, Ushijima calmly stated the two of them had split and left with that. Since then, the paparazzi had been scouring for a reason as to why the ever-popular pro couple had called an end to their relationship. 

Oikawa chuckles from behind you, peering over your shoulder at your phone before placing a sandwich and drink down on the table. He moves to sit across from you, his own food in hand, “did you read the interview with her?” You shake your head, no, with an agonizing groan. “You should.”

“And read as she drags me? I’ll pass,” you turn your head, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table, a look of exhaustion passed to the brunette. 

“Your name isn’t mentioned.”

“And she doesn’t drag you,” Kuroo adds, taking a seat beside Oikawa. Making a noise of subdued curiosity, Kuroo chuckles before elaborating. “She doesn’t talk down on you. If anything, she talks more about how she wishes she could be like you. How she wanted to be someone Ushijima could rely on so intently, he never let go of them.” 

“That’s even worse,” you sit up, staring down at your lunch with a lip curled back, “I’d rather hear that she called me every name and then some.” The two men just chuckle, rolling their eyes at your misery before digging into their meal. You pick at your own, too absorbed in thoughts of ruining a high-profile relationship. The relationship of one of the people who mean the most to you in life. A relationship fans would tear you apart over if your name ever popped up. You had thought Oikawa’s fans were ruthless, but the UshiNami shippers were fucking ruthless, blood thirsty, and on the prowl for something to rip into. Their relationship had only been a few months long, six at a maximum, but in that time the two volleyball stars had developed a cult-like following. You knew it was inevitable that your name would get dragged into the mix. Not that the media had anything they could use to stake you as the reason for their split, but it would certainly be speculated. After all, your name was frequently brought up between the Adlers players, even if it had been nearly two years since you had time to pay a visit to the team. Maybe that time gap would be enough to save you in the end, the lack of visitation between you and Ushijima would be enough to quell any suspicion. 

“Oi!” Kuroo pelts your cheek with a piece of bread from his sandwich, brows crunched with annoyance. “Stop overthinking.” 

You groan, dragging your palms down your face, “I can’t help it! I feel guilty.” 

“You didn’t do anything,” Oikawa practically scolds. “He was an idiot and ruined it himself.” He snorts out a grumbled, “Ushiwaka, my ass.” Staring at his drink as if it were the star player himself, Oikawa scoffs out, “Ushibaka, more like it.” You and Kuroo snicker, enthralled with how Oikawa was been reduced to a muttering mess of insults. 

Wagging his brows, Kuroo flicks a taunting finger in Oikawa’s face, “still that bothered by him?” 

“No!” Oikawa snaps from his bitter revere, “it’s not like I hate the guy, he’s not worth that much of my energy. But, _fuck_ , I don’t know!” He crosses his arms over his chest, begrudgingly admitting, “he still gets under my skin.” 

“Enemies to lovers, my favorite,” you chuckle, earning a cackle from Kuroo as Oikawa sputters. With a snobbish upwards turn of his nose, Oikawa refutes your claim, stating Ushijima would be lucky to even make it to the acquaintance category. Known for your habit of teasing and provoking, you and Kuroo poke fun at Oikawa over the claim until his face is colored every shade of red imaginable. A final laugh escapes you as Oikawa begins to pout, whining about how cruel you and Kuroo are before you both relent in your torment. Deciding to move on to other matters, you ask, “are we still going to Daisuki’s party tonight?” 

Both males nod in agreement, “great. I’ll DD.” 

“No need, I don’t plan to drink that much.” One of your brow’s arches at Oikawa’s claim, an incredulous pout forming across your lips. “I’m serious!”

“We don’t need to drive, his place is only two blocks over,” Kuroo cuts in, phone in hand as he checks the location on his maps. You and Oikawa shrug, accepting the information and gearing up to move on. Dread floats across the table as all three of your phones begin to go off, Bokuto’s name flashing across Kuroo’s phone, a surprise call from Kageyama to Oikawa, and Ushijima’s name appearing on your own. Passing shared glances of trepidation, each call is answered with an uneasy, “hello?” 

“(Name), I am calling to apologize.” Your heart sinks at the sound of his voice, every possibility running through your mind as to what he could be apologizing for. Neither Kuroo nor Oikawa appeared ready to topple over or stop breathing, maybe you were getting worked up over nothing. “I realize I may have made you uncomfortable the other week.” Nearly collapsing in your seat with relief, all you can do is release a silent sigh of gratitude that the universe was not hurling you into the center of a scandal. 

“It’s fine, ‘Toshi. I’m not hung up on it.” You hear the rumble of his voice begin, but it is quickly silenced when another voice in the back begins talking. The line is jumbled, cluttered with static and a barely audible grunt of conceding from Ushijima before a foreign voice fills your ear. 

“(Surname)-san, hi. I’m Uchida Emiko, Ushijima’s agent.” 

“Oh, fuck.” The words fly off your tongue before you even process them, eliciting a low chuckle from the woman that leaves your face hot with embarrassment. Slowly, you sink further into your seat, trying to cover your face with your free hand. 

“I take it that you have an idea as to why I may be calling.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“It seems during her latest run in with the press, Tsukinami-san made a passing comment about you that’s stirred up quite a commotion.” Even without hearing the words being spoken to you, both males grimace in your direction. Kuroo and Oikawa are both still on their calls but have fallen silent in order to listen to your responses instead. Even Bokuto’s boisterous voice has silenced on the opposite end of the line. 

“How incriminating was it?” 

The phrasing makes her laugh once again, “nothing too horrible, but it certainly could cause trouble for you. And Ushijima.” Her tone shifts, suddenly holding a professional coldness that made you feel numb. “When asked what happened with their relationship, Tsukinami-san lost composure and said, ‘I’m not (Surname).’ Given that you were photographed with them, and have been seen around Ushijima, the Adlers, and some other professional athletes, it won’t be difficult for the press to find you.” Overcome with nervousness, you worry along your bottom lip. Images of furious fans lurking outside your dorm and classes litter your mind, sending a new wave of unease through you. Your leg bounces rapidly, hand falling to your thigh for your fingers to dig in. “I was hoping you would be willing to do a small press conference with Ushijima.”

“W-what? Why?” 

“The two of you could talk about your relationship, past and currently. No, he said, she said, since you both would be together to answer questions.” 

“But there’s nothing romantic between ‘Toshi and I. That lunch was the first time we’ve seen each other in two years.” 

“I’m aware, but do you really think that tabloids care? Unless they hear something definitive, they’ll hawk you.” 

Sighing, you relent, “when?” 

“I’ll send you over the information.”

“Can I tal-“ she ends the call before you finish, leaving you to gape with your phone still pressed to your ear. 

“Tobio-chan was calling to warn us that Ushibaka’s agent would be calling.” 

“Bo was telling me about Tsukinami, he sent me a link to the video of her freaking out.” 

Ignoring both of their comments, your force an off-topic reply, “we have three hours until the party. We should get ready.” 

“(Name), are you sure you should -“

“One drink, I promise,” you cut Kuroo off with, not wanting him to finish the sentence. 

“Your one drink can’t be straight liquor,” Oikawa chides, knowing how you would occasionally bend your own rules to indulge in old, bad habits. You reluctantly agree to his wish, deciding it would be better to keep a straight mindset, anyway. As Uchida had said, it wouldn’t take much for paparazzi to find you now, and the last thing you needed was for them to catch you in a compromising position that would only spell disaster for you and Ushijima. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Opting to stay a bit low profile, you change into a plain, black bodycon dress with a burgundy bomber and thigh high boots. You keep your hair down, hoping to use it to shield your face if the cameras come swooping in. You had half a mind to make a mental note to beat Bokuto senseless for asking the trio to join your date that fateful day, but you knew he couldn’t be blamed. No one went into the gathering thinking the end would result in Ushijima and his girlfriend splitting. 

“You look like you’ve been shot,” notes Oikawa as you approach, him and Kuroo waiting at the campus gates for you. 

You immediately duck under Oikawa’s arm, letting him drape across your shoulders as you huddle closer towards him, “honestly, I’d prefer that.” He snickers, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before guiding you in the direction of the party. Kuroo follows behind the two of you, focus lingering on how Oikawa keeps your side nearly flush against his own and your arm wraps around his waist. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Kuroo finds his attention locked on you the entire night. When you aren’t pressed up against Oikawa, you’re saving him from the hordes of people trying to slip in and steal him for themselves. Likewise, he’s right there to snag you away when any unwelcomed patrons try to get too close. It was routine for the two of you, swooping it to save and protect the other. If not for the few people you two willingly dance with and idly flirt with while getting a little too touchy, Kuroo would have fully believed you and Oikawa had started dating. With hawking observation, he watches as you wiggle your brows suggestively to Oikawa before eyeing the girl asking him to dance from head to toe. He smirks at you before passing the girl a grin and accepting the offer. You begin to weave through the crowd of people, heading towards the kitchen. No thoughts filter through his mind as he follows you, unwitting to the way even your silence calls him like a siren song. You sink against the wall, the cool barrier refreshing after being crammed in a space dripping with humidity and an abundance of body heat. It’s not until Kuroo is right in front of you that you honestly notice him, subtle guilt nudging you for unintentionally ignoring him all night. “Hey, Kur-“ your greeting halts with a sharp inhale as his arms rest against the wall on either side of your head. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he’s speaking. His voice sounds like an unintelligible hum against the bass of the music, but he rings clear through your ears. 

“I love you. I always have, I always will. I hate thinking you’re with Oikawa. I hate how other people think you’re dating Oikawa. You’d be better with me.”

A silent sigh rolls off your tongue and you settle against the hard surface behind you, arms folding in front of your chest. “How much have you had to drink, Kuroo?” 

“I’m sober, (Name).” He brings his head down to stare you straight in the eyes. His pupils are normal, given the darkness of the room. His cheeks aren’t flushed, his face is steeled, no trace of alcohol on his breath. “I’m in love with you. I have been for years, and I’m not missing my chance a second time.” By now your arms have dropped to your sides, fingers twitching as they itch to grab his face and beg him to repeat the words he just spoke. As if he can read your mind, his hands move to cup your face, “(Name), I love you. I want to be with you.” Words are lost on your tongue, as all you can manage to do is grip him at the collar to keep him in place and you leap on your toes and press your lips to his. Kuroo is quick to reciprocate, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. The kiss isn’t anything like he expected, there are no fireworks exploding in the background, and there’s a lack of excited flutters in the pit of his stomach. He expected to feel weightless, as if he had floated into a realm of fantasy because he was certain that was the only place, he would ever be able to claim you. Instead, he feels grounded, calm, and enveloped in a warmth that stems from relief and complete adoration. You are his sanity as much as you are his fantasy, his tether to normalcy and his strength on the days he falls to his insecurities. You are everything he has wanted since his first year of high school, and he’ll be damned before he lets someone else take you.

You break away breathlessly, chest moving with uneven patterns. Kuroo beams down at you, nothing but sheer love to be found in his stare. From the corner of your eye you catch of glimpse of familiar hazelnut locks, but they vanish into the other room before you can really see him.

From the opposite side of the wall, Oikawa grins with triumph. He had thought it would take divine intervention or otherworldly powers to push you and Kuroo together, but really, how far off was Oikawa from being either of those? All it took was a carefully timed hook up for Kuroo to become a scrambling mess of desperation. Of course, Oikawa had a backup plan for if you didn’t take up the friends with benefits suggestion.

Intertwining your fingers with Kuroo’s, you ask, “want to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.” The smile you share is cut short when you feel your phone vibrate in the depths of your jacket’s pocket. You know the sequence, you know exactly who is calling you, and it sends a trickle of panic down your spine. Fishing the device out, you answer and quickly pull the speaker to your ear. You don’t have a chance to breathe the syllable of a word out before Uchida’s familiar voice is filling your mind.

“You’re going to go out the side of the house, through the back gate, and up two blocks to the left. There’s a car there, get in it. You’ll know which.” The call ends before you can attempt to muster out any understanding of her demands. She has no interest in hearing what you have to say, she knows you’ll comply.

“Who was it?”

“Ushi- well, his agent.” Stuffing the phone back in your pocket with a grunt, you grumble out a, “I’m assuming the vultures are out front.”

Kuroo glances towards the front of the house, soft scowl forming as he pictures the drama-hungry reporters corralled outside, waiting to jump the moment they lay eyes on you. “Want to go out the back?”

“Uchida-san already gave me instructions.” You glance towards the door that leads out the side, to the backyard, and then back to Kuroo. There’s a thought ticking away at your confidence, one that makes you anxious of reporters still catching you even after taking the clear path Ushijima’s agent gave. You don’t want to drag Kuroo into the brewing drama, you don’t want him to have to face any scrutiny or rumors that could be made. As if reading your mind, he grabs your hand and gives a gentle squeeze, just enough to pull you back to reality.

The smile he gives is just as soft as his hold, reassuring as he tells you, “lead the way.”

“Oikawa- “

“I’ll text him. Let’s go.” With a quick glance around, you nod before guiding Kuroo out the side door. The tall fencing blocks your line of sight to the front of the house, but you can hear the clamoring of the nosy press mixed with annoyed shouts of partygoers. The glance you pass is fleeting, tightening your grip on Kuroo’s hand before quickly maneuvering into the back alleyway and two blocks up. Just as stated, there’s an all-black car waiting, the heat from the exhaust visible in the chilly autumn air. The door to the back springs open and you’re quick to jump inside with Kuroo right on your tail. He closes the door behind him, trapping the two of you in the backseat with Ushijima. A woman turns around from the passenger seat, raven locks clipped just above her shoulders and a predatory smile.

“Glad to see you could make it, (Surname)-san.”

“Yeah,” you huff, cheeks flushed from a mixture of emotions and mild exertion.

Uchida looks over, inspecting Kuroo with a casual flick of her eyes, scanning him over form head to toe. “So, who’s the friend?”

“Kuroo,” Ushijima answers, simultaneously acknowledging him with a nod.

“No need to involve him,” you interject, slipping your hand over his while keeping direct eye contact with the agent.

She smirks, making a small hum before pulling up her phone, “good to know.” She scrolls before stopping, copying some information to send to you, “in light of the media going on the hunt for you, I scheduled your interview for tomorrow. Ushijima and you will be staying in a hotel tonight to get your stories together.” You glance down at your phone as it goes off, reading the address to what you know is likely the hotel she reserved a room at. “We’ll drop you off at the campus. Pack something for an interview and for the night. You have an hour and then a car will be back to pick you up.” With that she turns to face forward, motioning for the driver to make his way towards your college. The ride is silent, no one daring to speak a word on the subject. You’d like to object to it all, but you know it won’t solve anything if you do. The reporters will keep coming, the rumors will continue to fly, and you’ll be stuck in the center of drama you never wished to be dragged into.

Ushijima is uncharacteristically tense, body almost completely rigid at he sits beside you. Normally, he would say whatever came to mind, but there’s no thought to convey. His brain has turned to slush, rotted from the endless questions and concerns eating away at his conscious. You don’t mind the silence from him, even if you feel guilty, he’s so uncomfortable. After all, you’ll have to spend the entire night with him deciding how you plan to handle the topic of being the cause of his relationship ending.

Kuroo follows you to your dorm, eager to talk to you about the entire ordeal in the car. Neither of you dared to speak a single word on the topic before entering the safety of your room, unsure of prying ears. “Well, this certainly went to Hell in a handbasket.”

“I’d rather sacrifice a lung than deal with this,” you agonize, tears quickly gathering in your eyes. Kuroo pulls you to him, cradling your head against his chest. He knows just how desperate you were to keep the entire ordeal under wraps, or at least ensure your name stayed out of it. You were never interested in being considered a homewrecker; you always did your due diligence to ensure you never became a tipping point in someone’s relationship. Being a heartbreaker was not your goal, now or ever.

“Don’t stress over it,” he places a kiss against the crown of your head, “you know Ushijima won’t let anyone bad-mouth you.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh against him before inhaling, Kuroo’s scent easily relaxing you. “I just don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want people trying to dig into my life. I never wanted to be in the public eye.”

“You know, I’m surprised you’ve gone this far without being in the press.” You peek up at him, lips pursed, and eyes narrowed dangerously. He can’t stop himself from chuckling, “practically all of your friends are pro athletes, (Name). It was bound to happen.”

You pout in return, “they’re your friends, too.”

“Yes, but I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, swatting his hand from your head as you duck out of his hold. “If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought you and Bo were a thing.” Shooting a coy smirk, you ask, “how have _you_ avoided being caught?”

Kuroo gives a smug smirk, snickering at your playful accusation. He slides up to you, grabbing your waist and pulling your front flush against his own. He leans down, hot breath fanning against your neck as he whispers into your ear, “I don’t make a scene in public. Maybe I’ll have to show you how I get away with it.”

The salacious promise makes your cheeks blister, the back of your hand coming up to swat against his stomach. Kuroo grunts lightly at the impact, but chuckles upon spotting the blush burning across your face. “ _Oh,_ chibi-chan, I didn’t think you’d fluster that easily.” He grabs you by the hips, pulling you into him once again.

“How can I not?” A soft giggle slips through your smile as he kisses down your neck, “my boyfriend is fucking hot.”

He groans against your skin, nipping at a particularly soft spot of flesh that has you mewling in return, “say it again.”

“My boyfriend,” a gasping moan pulls from your throat as he sucks on the tender skin, “Kuroo Tetsuro, is fucking hot.” The addition of his name makes his eyes roll, a tight pressure of need building in his gut. Acting on pure instinct, he bends down, tightly securing both of your thighs in his grasp before lifting you. Reacting quickly to the change in position, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms grip at his shoulders. He moves swiftly, your back quickly pressing against your dorm room door as Kuroo leans into you. Your hips move against his, your clothed cunt mindlessly searching for friction against his covered cock. Kuroo doesn’t mind in the least, rutting against you just as vigorously. His lips blaze down your neck until he’s tugging at the collar of your dress, trying to pull it down farther to access more of your skin. He growls with impatience, pulling the article up from the hem to expose your chest.

“Hold onto this for me,” he orders with a teasing glint in his pools of hazel, stuffing the bottom of your dress into your mouth. His denim tent continues to rub against your thinly veiled pussy, the friction mind hazing as your clit is easily stimulated. You whine around the fabric in your mouth as Kuroo bites and sucks marks into the swell of your breasts, his thrusts becoming more frantic with every noise you make. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy against your flesh as he gets more worked up. His hands roughly grab around you, squeezing your ass and pulling you more aggressively against him. Even with the makeshift gag, your moans and futile please for more are easily understood by the ebony haired male. He complies, feeling his own end quickly approaching. As much as he’d love to bury his fire hot cock into your velvet walls, he knows your time is limited, and right now he’ll take whatever he can get. Kuroo pulls back just enough to watch as your eyes flutter shut, your panties now dripping as you release into the thin fabric. The way your body twitches against him, your pitchy whines and cries of pleasure just from him dry humping you is enough to finally send him over the edge. Kuroo groans into the side of your neck, low and heady as he busts in his boxers.

He finally sets you down after the both of you have recovered, breathing evened out and pupils no longer blown with lust. Kuroo can only chuckle as you look at him with bewilderment, unsure how the two of you had gone from stressing over your involvement with a press release to fucking each other through your clothes. He kisses your forehead, “get packed, you have a long night ahead of you.” The reminder of having to lock yourself in a hotel room and plan for the public meeting makes you groan, a pitiful, desperate sound that voices your reluctance. “Hey,” lightly gripping your chin, he tilts your head up for you to look him directly in the eyes. “You’ll do great. Ushijima and his agent will help make sure you’re ready. But, most importantly,” he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. They’re soft, like plush pillows that make you want to stay curled in bed for an entire day. You eagerly kiss back, having longed to do so for so long that now it feels like you’ll never get enough. When he pulls back, just enough for his lips to move smoothly against your own, he whispers once more, “I’m in love with you, and I have every bit of confidence in you.”

With a smile, you wrap your arms around his neck, quickly pressing your lips against his once more before digging your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you, Kuroo. I love you, too.”

**~*~*~*~*~**

Naturally, in light of the current scandal, you and Ushijima had your own rooms. Unsurprisingly, they were side by side, so the two of you could meet and discuss the plans for the press conference without having to worry about been seen any more than necessary. Uchida had stuck around long enough to show you to your room, open the door to the two conjoined rooms, wish you luck and say that she would be back in the morning, and finally making herself scarce for the night. You sit on your bed, staring at Ushijima who sits across from you, seemingly stiff on the edge of his own bed. He doesn’t look at you, finding the floor to be much more interesting than a woman he still longs for. “Toshi,” the way you speak his voice, so soft, as if worried saying it any louder would make him vanish, pulls him to finally meet your gaze. “We should really plan what we’re going to do tomorrow.”

“I’m going to tell the truth.” His answer drags a small smile from you, along with a gentle laugh. Rising from your spot, you cross the doors that connect your rooms before finally taking a seat beside the athlete.

“I’m going to need something a little more specific.”

“I will tell them you did not break up Tsukinami and I.”

“Toshi, if it were that simple, I don’t think your agent would be making us do this.” A defeated sigh slips past your lips, “we’re going to have to talk about our past. And,” you look away from him, scared to see whatever pain of rejection lingers in his eyes when you tell him, “that you still have feelings for me.”

Ushijima nods, more to himself than towards your words. He remains silent for a moment, allowing his brain to process the outcomes of the question it’s nagging to ask. He throws caution to the wind, “you do not have feelings towards me anymore?”

You do. Of course, you do. He’s Ushijima. One of your closest friends, the first love you ever had. Those feelings still rest heavy in your heart, you still wonder if you made the right decision in ending your relationship all those years ago. You had longed to be with him again, to be able to meet with him and tell him you wanted to rekindle what you had let simmer out in your final year of high school. But the opportunity never came and now, now you’re with Kuroo. Someone else you had immense feelings for. “It’s complicated,” you finally answer, not entirely comfortable answering his question with a solid answer. There wasn’t one to give.


End file.
